


Incubus

by Ithiel_Dragon, virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, Romance, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-19
Updated: 2009-10-25
Packaged: 2018-10-01 01:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 69,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10177295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiel_Dragon/pseuds/Ithiel_Dragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: Sam and Dean are left alone in Georgia in the middle of the summer while John is away on a hunt, and unfortunately the brothers haven't been getting along lately.  Sam's moodiness, and Dean's temper (not to mention his crush on his own brother) are not helping matters.  Things get even more complicated when Dean is attacked by an Incubus.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story uploaded by Ithiel Dragon. This was a roleplay story I was involved in several years ago on a forum called Devil's Gate. Ithiel Dragon played Dean Winchester, and some other characters. Virtual Personal (as Cas) played Sam Winchester, and some other characters. I am posting this story in its entirety and unedited. The page breaks are where the author changed. Maybe one day I will go back and edit it into a more proper story format, but don't hold your breath. I'm mostly posting this story here so I don't lose it. I still think its a pretty good read the way it is, but it is still obviously a roleplay. You've been warned.

Sam sat down on the crumbling steps of the house they’d rented for the past six months, arms looped around his knees, his freakishly long legs stretched out so his feet hit the ground. He rested his chin on top of his knees as he watched through dark, unhappy eyes, his brother helping their dad pack the truck. Just by the number of bags and supplies going in, he could tell it was gonna be a long trip.  


  
At this moment, he hated both of them. Dad couldn’t wait a couple of days before he hit the road, couldn’t keep his promise to take him somewhere special on his birthday. Unimportant things had a way from slipping from his dad's mind, when but when it came to identifying demons and knowing weapons, his mind was a steel trap. Sam couldn’t remember the last time they’d celebrated his birthday on the right day, but he remembered all the completely forgotten ones.

He blinked away the tears that threatened to come. So what if dad had just nodded when he’d tried to show him his report card? “Good job, son.” How the hell would he know? He hadn’t even looked and had carelessly let the paper fall on the floor as he strode outside. Guess it didn’t mean much that Sam had made up three months of missed school and ended up with straight A’s, even in his AP classes. Nah, that was nothing when he still couldn’t shoot as well as Dean had at his age, and didn’t show half his excitement at the prospect of hunting.

Sam made a face, looking back into the house where the scrap of paper still lay on the ground with the imprint of the sole of John’s or Dean’s boot. He felt like tearing the report card up into shreds, and he would... later, when he had the energy to get up. It was so freaking hot and sticky he thought he wanted to die. His hair was plastered to his forehead and he probably needed a cut.

His gaze went back to Dean who was laughing about something now. Usually, the sight of his brother laughing made him want to smile, but not today. He’d asked Dean if he could go camping with some of the other kids at school, but big brother had nixed that idea for no reason. None. It wasn’t as if Sam couldn’t take care of himself ten times better than any of the other kids who got to go. But no... when their dad was gone, Dean’s word was law.

He’d begged. He’d even gone so far as to suggest Dean take a couple days off or rearrange his work schedule and come with them to the lake. That way, he could keep an eye on him, if it had to be that way. Dean hadn’t budged. Yeah... so Sam was gonna be stuck here, in the heat, no air conditioning, nothing, just because Dean said ‘no.” Some way to spend summer vacation. Summer hell.

He heard his dad call, and refused to look up at first. The second time John Winchester barked his name, Sam’s face jerked toward him. He wouldn’t get up, not unless his dad made him. Instead, he merely gave a limp wave, even as his brother’s eyes drilled holes through him. Neither of the two men at the truck cared what he wanted or thought, so why should he care about what they thought? He had to fight a bit harder to ignore Dean, but he did it, refusing to look at him at all, just as he had since yesterday.

* * *

His brother was such a fucking girl sometimes, he swore Sam actually had PMS.

Dean threw a glare at the younger boy who was sitting on the front steps of their house fucking _pouting_. Fifteen years old, about to be sixteen in a few days, and playing up the whole teenaged angst thing to the fullest degree. It was really starting to piss Dean off.

Alright, so it sucked that Dad had to go away on a hunt a couple of days before his brother’s birthday. Fine. But it wasn’t as though their father was doing it just to piss off Sam. People were _dying_ for fucks sake. Dad needed to get to Washington pronto. Dean would have gone with their father in a heartbeat to help out, but the job was probably going to take a month or so at least and Sam couldn’t be left for that long on his own.

The way his brother had been acting for the last day and a half though, Dean was highly tempted at the moment to jump in the truck with their Dad anyway.

As though Sam wasn’t pissed off enough at their Dad, Sam was pissed off at him too. All because Dean had said “no” to his brother going on some stupid camping trip. Sam had only asked _him_ because the younger boy knew that if he’d asked their dad, then John would have said “no” too. Little manipulative shit. He hated when Sam tried to pull that on him. Yeah, Dean was somewhat of a pushover when it came to something his little brother really wanted, he’d bend over backwards to make it come true. Just like he’d managed to convince their father to stay in the area for six whole months, one of the longest stretches that they’d ever stayed in one place at a time. Just so his brother could finish out his school year and a few make up classes so that Sam wouldn’t have to repeat the grade again next year.

Sam knew better to ask him about that dumb camping trip though. _Camping_ for gods sake. As in out in the open where anything could attack at any time and there wasn’t any way to even put up any of the normal protections because of the stupid other kids that would be with Sam. Why are you putting a ring of salt around the campfire? Yeah, he’d just love to see what explanation his brother came up with. It was the same reason that their dad had never let Sam go to any sleepovers or shit when he was younger, and boy the temper tantrums that Sam had thrown on occasion.

Unfortunately, because Sam had decided to be sneaky and ask him and because Dean had said the same thing their Dad would have he was on Sam’s shit list as much as their father was. This was going to be a fucking fun summer alone with emo boy. Though maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Being pissed off at his little brother was a lot easier than... Dean shook those thoughts quickly out of his head before they could fully form. Concentrating on helping their father load up the truck. Doing his best to ignore the boy who was pointedly ignoring the both of them.

It didn’t take long, and when they were finished John clapped him on the shoulder.

“Alright, you know the drill. Call Bobby or Pastor Jim if there’s a problem. The credit card is for emergencies only. Look after your brother.” Their father said unnecessarily, the older man said the exact same thing every single time he left on a hunt, but Dean nodded anyway.

“Yes, sir.”

John called his youngest son’s name then, twice, to say goodbye to him and Dean frowned at the half-assed wave the younger boy gave their father. John merely sighed and shook his head, glancing at Dean and rolling his eyes a little. Dean bit the inside of his cheek but couldn’t stop from grinning a little. Sam’s little bouts of teenage melodrama had become something of a private joke between them.

Dean stepped back as John got into the truck and watched their father drive away, the dirt driveway kicking up quite a bit of dust, sticking uncomfortably to the sweat on his brow, and Dean coughed a little. The middle of summer in the middle of Georgia was not a fun place to be, not in the least. When the truck was finally out of sight, Dean turned around and started walking back to the house. Kicking at his little brother’s shoe as he passed and walked up the stairs to the front door.

“I’m making lunch. Get off your ass and come help.” Dean said as he opened the old screen door that was half way to falling off its hinges, letting it slam shut behind him.

* * *

Sam tried to kick back but missed, turning to glare at the screen door that shut behind him. He wasn’t hungry. It was too freakin’ hot to be hungry. And he wasn’t about to jump at Dean’s command, hell no.

Turning back, he stared ahead with unseeing eyes, making plans and dreaming of a future where there were no monsters around every corner, and he got to make his own fucking decision. A smile almost played on his mouth until he heard a truck pull up and saw it was a bunch of the guys from school, hanging off the truck,making cat calls and waving at him to come.

When the cloud of dust settled, his best friend, if you could call it that, shouted, “come on Sam, we still got room. My dad and uncle are coming.”

Sam stood up and looked through dark eyes at the driver, his friend’s dad, and the second car with his friend’s uncle and some other kids he didn’t recognize. He nodded toward the house and shrugged.

“Come on man, want me to talk to them?” Sam’s friend shouted.

“Nah.”

“Why not? We’ve got adults and—“

Sam shook his head again, “they’re _paranoid freaks_ ,” he said distinctly. “You could have an army and it wouldn’t mean shit.”

Seeing that he wasn’t about to budge, the cars revved their engines and took off, the calls and waves and rude remarks of this friends making Sam want to laugh or break something. This was his life. Always getting left behind.

Slowly, he turned and walked inside, picking the scrap of paper off the floor, and crumpling it in his hand. His eyes briefly met Dean’s and he could tell his brother heard and was pissed, but he didn’t give a shit. Tossing the paper into the trashcan, he moved away from the open kitchen and went to sit on the sofa, pulling his shirt off and tossing it on a distant chair like he was playing basketball.

* * *

Dean wasn’t too terribly surprised that Sam simply ignored him. Considering Sam had been ignoring him for the last day or so. That didn’t mean that it didn’t piss him off, and he might have slammed the cupboards and ancient fridge door a little harder than he needed to as he got out the bread, mayonnaise, and a can of tuna.

_Should just let the little pain in the ass starve,_ Dean thought to himself but even as he thought that he was already taking out four slices of bread instead of just two for himself. Opening the can of tuna he mixed it with some of the mayonnaise in a bowl.

He was reaching into the fridge again for some celery and relish when he heard the trucks drive up outside, and looked out the window with a frown. Dean didn’t particularly like it when people came around their place, and he hadn’t been too pleased with Sam’s choice of “friends” in this little hick town either.

They were trouble. Not the kind of trouble that Dean could usually find if he put his mind to it, but still trouble. That one boy in particular Dean had a feeling was one of the reasons why Sam had been even more stubborn than usual over the last few months. Always trying to buck their dad’s authority and get away with shit that he normally would have never even _thought_ to ask. Like this stupid camping trip.

Dean glared hard at the back of his little brother’s head during the exchange, if Sam jumped in that truck he would grab his damn gun and shoot out the tires if he had to. But Sam didn’t. Even though his angry description of his family left a bad taste in Dean’s mouth.

Dean turned back to his task, chopping up the celery with probably a lot more enthusiasm than was required. Throwing a glare at the younger boy when Sam _finally_ decided to grace him with his presence.

He watched his brother throw away his report card and his fist tightened a little around the knife in his hand. He knew Sam had gotten all A’s, again. He didn’t even need to see it to know. He’d watched as the younger boy tried to show it to their father on his way out, a rather dumb move on Sam’s part when he knew their dad was distracted. Now Sam was throwing it away, without bothering to show it to him like he normally did. As always lately, whatever Sam was pissed off at their dad about, by extension that meant Sam was pissed off at _him_ for the same thing.

His displeased glare followed Sam into the living room and he watched the younger boy peel off his sweat soaked t-shirt, sprawling out on the couch in nothing but his shorts. Sam had been doing that a lot lately too. As the thermometer creeped up towards and past a hundred degrees Sam wore less and less during the day. Right now his cut off jean shorts were riding low on his thighs and his lightly tanned skin was covered with a fine sheen of sweat making Dean’s throat suddenly feel very dry.

Dean tore his eyes away from his fifteen year old brother and dumped the celery into the bowl, mixed it up, and dropped a good portion onto each of the slices of bread. But by the time he was cutting each sandwich in half he realized he wasn’t even hungry anymore, thanks to Sam. Though if it was because he was so pissed off at his little brother or because of the walking wet dream the younger boy was turning into lately Dean didn’t know.

With a curse Dean threw both sandwiches onto a plate and slammed it down on the table. He was out the back door again a second later, letting the screen door slam behind him once more as he stalked around the house towards the garage. Trying to ignore the tightness in his jeans and the foul thoughts in his brain that made him feel like the worst fucking pervert in the world because they were directed towards the last person in the world they should be.

He opened up the garage door and the blast of heat that smacked him in the face made it a little difficult to breathe, fuck it had to be a hundred and twenty degrees in there, but he’d rather spend the afternoon getting baked alive under the hood of the Impala than to deal with his pissy little brother or his perverted unwanted thoughts. Penance and avoidance at the same time, worked for him. 

* * *

"Excuse me for living," Sam muttered, surprised and bewildered by Dean's odd behavior. He'd done exactly what _they_ wanted. Stayed home, imprisoned in his own house. What the fuck else did they want from him?

As soon as he heard the garage door, he rolled his eyes. In this heat, Dean couldn't play with his car for more than a few minutes. Reaching for a sandwich, even though he'd vowed not to eat, he settled back against the sofa and took a bite.

Before he knew it, he'd polished off the sandwich and was reaching for the second one. Weird that Dean made him two of them. How did Dean know he'd be this hungry? Changing the channel, he tried to get comfortable despite the oppressive heat.

A couple of hours later, he woke up with a start when the volume on the t.v. spiked. Frowning, he lowered the volume, but his eyes were glued on the news report. How long had Dean been in that hot garage? He looked at the clock... holy crap!

Scrambling to get his shoes on, he busted out of the house and practically ran toward the garage. It was only when he was close that he slowed down. Opening the garage door, he looked around and there was Dean, tinkering with the Impala. One look at Dean's flushed face, and the sweat dripping down his forehead, Sam wondered whether their dad took Dean's brain with him.

One hand on the door frame, he cleared his throat. "People are dying from heat strokes." When he knew he had Dean's attention, he also muttered under his breath. "Not the smart ones who got away from the heat and went places, like the lake."

* * *

Dean was under the hood of the impala, humming along with the tape deck blaring over on the work bench in the corner. The window was open and the fan was on, but all it did was seem to circulate the hot air around in the room rather than offer any relief. He concentrated fully on his work and his baby, and doing his best to distract himself from how fucking hot it was.

Not to mention forget about Sam and their Dad and the never ending feud he was constantly being dragged in the middle of. Forget about his teenage brother’s outbursts and angry mood swings that were growing increasingly harder to live with, how Sam’s eyes no longer looked up to him or admired him, but only seemed to ever look at him with scorn now. To forget about his own sick perverted thoughts that seemed to race around in his brain unbidden every time he looked at his little brother, thoughts that he hadn’t been able to deny ever since he realized his “little” brother wasn’t so little anymore, catching glimpses of the beautiful young man Sam was becoming....

He’d been doing a good job of it too, forgetting, denying, ignoring. So good in fact he completely lost track of how long he’d been out here, avoiding Sam and everything else. At least until the garage door opened and Dean looked up to the cause of most of his misery lately, standing there in his cut off shorts, old ratty sneakers without socks, and nothing else.

The twitch he felt in his groin watching a drop of sweat drip down from Sam’s hairline, down his neck and chest and over a nipple, put him right back into the foul mood he’d been trying so hard to forget ever since he came out here. Sam’s words, not so much about heatstroke but the ones after. Muttered too soft for Dean to hear but he didn’t need to from the expression of contempt on his brother’s face had Dean scowling.

“Yeah, I’d bet you’d fucking love that, if I just dropped dead out here. Sorry to disappoint you. Go away, Sam.” Dean snapped before he bent back under the hood of the car, ignoring his brother’s presence. 

* * *

Gripping the frame, Sam frowned and stared at his brother. He knew Dean too well not to read him, not to see that despite his effort to look relaxed, he was tense... coiled as if ready to strike something. That made him wonder if Dean developed superhero hearing and knew what he’d said.

He stood there a while longer, undecided. Dean was clearly done with him, he’d told him to leave. But Sam knew it was dangerously hot in the garage, even if Dean was in tip top shape and wasn’t about to keel over like the old people on t.v. And of course he didn’t want Dean to die, he just wanted him to be reasonable... to stop parroting their dad like he knew everything.

Another drop of sweat rolled down his back and he just knew that if it was this hot in the doorway, Dean had to be dying. Letting out a sigh, he walked over and looked under the hood then at his brother’s face, even if Dean was acting like it took all his powers of concentration to mess with his car. “Finish later. Split a beer with me?”

Yeah, he knew he was under age, but so was Dean and he got no flack for opening the beers in the fridge. It wasn’t that he even liked the taste of beer, but this would either draw Dean out of the garage, start a fight, or both. He wanted Dean out of the extreme heat, and didn’t shirk from a fight, so one way or the other, he was gonna get his way with this.

* * *

Dean ignored his brother completely when Sam came over to stand beside him. Keeping his eyes glued to the engine he was working on under the hood and not his pain in the ass brother. His pain in the ass little brother who either didn’t know or didn’t care that the last thing he should be doing was pushing Dean’s buttons right now. Sam had ignored him just fine for the last couple of _days_ and now all of a sudden he wouldn’t go away? What the fuck?!

Dean twisted the wrench in his hand a little more sharply than he needed to, and then gave a small mental apology to his baby. Sam’s “innocent” request, as though he hadn’t been making Dean’s life hell for the last few days… or years if you counted all of Dean’s horribly perverting musings about his little brother in various states of undress… finally making him glare up at the younger boy.

“Sorry, but this paranoid _freak_ is busy. I have to finish this so I can go to work tomorrow so I can feed your sorry ass while Dad is gone.” Dean snapped, wincing a little even as the words left his mouth, but he turned his attention back to the car. Away from his half naked little brother before he could mutter the apology already burning on his tongue. The apology that he really didn’t feel like giving Sam right now. 

* * *

Sam inhaled sharply, his face jerking up at the unexpected blow below the belt. Dean could be mean when he wanted and call him names, he could deal with that since he did a lot of that himself. They both gave as good as they got. But this was different, it made him sound like a freakin’ user, like a hanger on... like Dean wouldn’t have to work the job he hated if it weren’t for him. Worse, it made him feel like he was trapping Dean, weighing him down when his brother would much rather go with their dad.

His throat constricted. He swallowed over the bitter lump and just nodded, as if in agreement. “You said no to the paper route, but I’ll do something over the summer,” he said tightly. That had been a shouting match too, with Dean saying he needed to study and not waste time trying to earn a few bucks. As if he couldn’t do both. Sam knew Dean didn’t want him going all over town, that’s what the real issue had been.

His fingers curled around the metal frame around the engine of the car. “You know, you’re not as trapped as you think. You could do what you want. Leave... take off, hunt even,” he shrugged. “Most of the chains you’re wearing, they’re not real, they’re in your head. You hate this town, you hate this place... your job, just get in your car and drive. The world will still survive.”

The thought of Dean driving off and leaving him at the ramshackle house made his eyes sting a little, but no way he wanted to be the reason Dean hated his life. He’d thought about this a lot, for himself. He knew they expected him to graduate then become a hunter... live for it. Their expectations had been a weight on him, until he figured out that he’d be at an age where he didn’t have to listen. That he could take off to college. Dad would survive. Dean would survive. The world would survive.

Licking his lips, he took another step back, then turned away so Dean wouldn’t see the tear slip out his eyes. “You won’t get to pick between escape or suffering at work, if you die of heatstroke.” He headed out, practically running and kicking himself for having come after Dean in the first place. But deep down inside, he knew he’d do it again, even knowing what was coming.

* * *

Dean pretended not to hear what Sam was saying. He pretended not to notice the strain in his little brother’s voice as he said it. Refused to show just how much guilt he felt for saying what he had. For hurting Sam’s feelings like he obviously had. He refused to show how much it hurt as Sam expertly returned the favor.

He wasn’t “trapped”. It had never been a hardship for him, taking care of his little brother while their father was away. Sure, maybe he hated working at that god damned video store. Maybe he hated spending a good portion of the day rewinding tapes, and keeping stupid kids from going back into the porno section. But that was life. Sometimes you just had to suck it up and deal.

He worked between hunts so that he could help his dad with the expenses, to take a little bit of the pressure off the older man. He worked to help feed Sam, and himself, pay some bills, provide just a little bit better than their tight budget normally allowed. Like ice cream on a hot day, or new shoes so Sam could try out for track.

He’d never felt _trapped_ by that. He gladly accepted his responsibility. To his father. To Sam. To their family. The thought of _leaving_ had never even crossed his mind. This was his life. Their life. Saving people. Hunting things. The family business, as their dad called it. Maybe he did hate this little hick town they were crashing in for the moment. Maybe he hated this house where the roof leaked badly when it rained too hard. But he wasn’t chained here, he stayed willingly. He didn’t hate his life… though his brother obviously did.

The past couple of years Sam had been hinting as much. Always arguing with Dad. Arguing with him less but more recently, especially if Dean ever _dared_ to agree with their father about something. His brother had been trying more and more to blow off his training. Claiming schoolwork or wanting to play basketball or soccer or go on fucking camping trips into the woods with his friends. Things that just weren’t practical or downright dangerous. Asking for things Sam knew their father would say “no” to and then pitching a fit when their dad did.

Dean had hoped it was just normal teenage angst and rebellion, Dean had gone through it himself, though to a much lesser degree. He understood Sam’s frustration, for the most part, but now… He couldn’t help but wonder if it had a lot more to do with just hormones, too much fucking testosterone poisoning his little brother’s brain. Maybe Sam really did hate their father like he acted more and more frequently. Maybe Sam really did hate him…

Dean blinked, telling himself the stinging in his eyes was just from the sweat dripping down his face. When Dean finally looked up, Sam was gone. Probably long gone. Dean stayed out in the garage another half hour or so, because he really did need to finish what he’d been working on or he’d have to walk to town tomorrow. When he finally left the garage it was still hot as ever even though the sun had started to set into the horizon.

He walked slowly up the creaking back porch stairs and into the kitchen. Grabbing a towel hanging on the fridge door and wetting it with cold water from the sink, running it over his flushed face and the back of his neck a few times. Then he went back to the fridge, opened it, and grabbed two beers out. He crossed the hallway to the living room and flopped down on the couch. He didn’t look at his brother but held out the cold bottle by the neck to the younger boy in a silent peace offering.

* * *

For a long time, he stared at the t.v. screen but wasn’t watching or listening. Stuff just simmered and boiled inside him, the way it seemed to so much lately. _Worry_. About his stubborn ass of a brother who’d rather give himself heatstroke than admit staying in the stifling heat of the garage was stupid as hell. _Guilt_. Until now, he hadn’t... not for one second... thought of all the trouble he was to Dean. That if it weren’t for him, Dean could be out there hunting at dad’s side instead of working to ‘feed his sorry ass.’ _Anger._ Who the hell had asked for this life anyway? Dad was out of control, and he’d pretty much brainwashed Dean, and now the two of them would be ganging up on him. He could just imagine the fights that were to come. But he was right, and they were wrong. He had a right to choose a normal life. If they didn’t like it, they could suck it up. Or they could try to be normal, freakin’ do their own thing but accept him the way he was, let him go to college.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely registered the opening and closing of the door. It was the water that had him turning to look through the door to the hallway. At least he wasn’t dead, there was that.

Then Dean came in and gave him a beer. “Whole one... for me?” He looked up and grabbed it before Dean could change his mind. “Thanks,” he muttered, a bit unsurely as Dean went back to ignoring him.

Licking his lips, he put the bottle against his mouth and wedged his strong lower teeth between the cap and the bottle. Biting down, he jerked the bottle upward and had the cap off and spit it onto the coffee table.

The store near the school had soda’s with caps on them and when there was a big crowd of students, you’d have to wait in line for the opener. Unless you learned this trick from Jake. He’d learned that, and a lot more from Jake, but he tried to keep his mind off his friend, who was now probably setting up camp near a nice lake. He could think of nothing more fun than swimming at night at the moment.

He lifted the bottle again to his mouth and took a drink, his face screwing up a little. He didn’t hate beer, but he didn’t love it either. Stealing a glance at Dean, he tried to emulate him, taking another couple of mouthfuls and looking like he was enjoying it.

* * *

Dean merely shrugged at Sam’s surprise that he was giving him a whole beer for himself. It wasn’t like it was going to stunt the boy’s growth or anything. Little bastard was almost as tall as him now and he was only fifteen. Though that wasn’t the real reason why Dean had gotten them two beers instead of one to share as Sam had suggested. It was because Dean wasn’t sure how he would… react… putting his lips around the same bottle as Sam, maybe even able to taste a little bit of his brother there every time he took a drink.

The older boy glanced at Sam as his little brother used his teeth to open the bottle and rolled his eyes.

“You’re going to break a fucking tooth doing that shit.” He said before looking away again, using the bottle opener he’d brought with him and tossing the cap onto the table next to Sam’s. Making sure not to look at Sam as his brother drank, wrapping his lips around the lip of the cold perspiring glass. He tried not to at least, but even not looking he could still see Sam from his peripheral vision.

He was glad his face was already flushed, and took a long drink of the cold beer to cool himself down. He chewed on his lower lip a moment, pretending to watch the boring ass news show for a while before he leaned over his brother and snatched the remote away from him. Flipping through channels even as he started talking.

“Maybe we can drive up to the lake on my day off.” Dean said as though it was the most casual thing in the world, quickly adding for clarification. “For the afternoon.” There was no fucking way they were staying there overnight, but if it would make Sam happy…

* * *

Sam made a sound of disagreement. He was ten times more likely to break _a fucking tooth_ fighting monsters than he was on a bottle cap. Knowing it would lead to another fight, one that he didn’t want or need right now, he kept his thoughts to himself.

His gaze moved between the t.v. and Dean and back. “If we get a long enough cable, we could hook up to the neighbors.” They’d done that when they stayed at apartments, gotten free cable. Helped when he had long hours of boredom when his dad and brother went out on a hunt and didn’t take him, and yet they expected him to stay prisoner inside. You’d think he was made of freakin’ china.

He was about to take a drink when Dean mentioned going to the lake. A smile lit Sam’s eyes as he practically dove from his chair to the sofa, bouncing up against Dean. “That would be awesome. Jake and the others’ll still be there. They have extra tents... he told me.” Yeah, he knew Dean wouldn’t like it, but he had to try. “It’ll be fun... no different from sleeping in the car, and we’ve done that hundreds of times,” he added a bit defensively, seeing Dean’s eyes narrow.

* * *

The little spark of happiness he felt in his own chest seeing the smile light up his little brother’s face like a neon sign was unfortunately short lived. It wasn’t the part where Sam’s first thought was being able to spend time with his “friends” who would still be up at the lake, rather than with his brother who was willing to drive him all the fucking way there just to make Sam happy. Though, ok fine, that did sting a bit. It was the fact that even after he’d _said_ they were only going to be going up there for the afternoon, Sam immediately launched into a campaign trying to convince him to spend the _night_ up there with Sam’s fucking friends. As though Dean hadn’t just made a big friggen compromise willing to take his little brother up there at _all_.

Give him an inch, the little prick tries to take a mile. That’s what Sam was all about lately, and frankly, Dean was getting really fucking tired of it.

“Are you fucking retarded or something? I just _said_ we’d be going up there for the afternoon, that’s it.” Dean said, giving his brother the no nonsense don’t argue with me glare that Dean had learned from their Dad, and he knew that was just going to piss off his little brother even more.

“No different huh? Forget that the trunk of the car is filled with an arsenal? How about all the protective spells and shit Dad has carved into all the groves of the windows and doors? You going to put a circle of salt up around your tent before you go to sleep? I’d like to see you try to explain that one to your ‘friends’.”

* * *

Sam recoiled at the criticism. _They_ didn't think he ever got anything right. Sure, Dean was more encouraging, maybe a little less hard on him when they practiced or went on a real hunt, but it was an act. Inside, this was how he felt. 'Little Sammy' knew nothing, had to be told what to do, when and how.

He sat back, and took a longer pull of beer than he had before, trying to control the emotions seething inside him, boiling... when all he'd wanted was a peaceful moment and maybe a fun weekend. Taking a couple more swigs, Sam tried to hold it in, not to explode, not to tell it like it was, but he couldn't... just couldn't.

He pointed at Dean with the head of his beer bottle. "You're turning into mini-dad. Used to have fun, break the rules. Now it's all about the stupid rules. Everything is _can't_. Can't do this, can't do that, too dangerous, too in the open, not enough wards, or a waste of time because we're not practicing or killing things... _dad_!" he emphasized, his eyes raking over his brother.

"You make me feel like I'm nuts... like I'm the crazy one, but I'm not... you are, both of you," he nodded. "There are bad things out there, okay... I get that. But you know, reason _we_ see so much of it is your fault... you and dad's. What do you think happens when you go out there and hunt them all the time, huh? You attract them right back, that's what."

Lifting his bottle to his lips he took another long drink, and felt like his tension was melting away even when he didn't want it to, no... he had to let Dean know how they made him feel. "People, regular people, they go out at night, they go camping, they get to do things after school that really mean something, things that don't have anything to do with shooting or cutting or ... surviving. You know why? Because they _live_ their lives. And yeah, sometimes they get hurt by what's out there, but we already have been hurt by it. Lightning _already_ struck the Winchesters, okay? Not gonna happen over and over again. Mom's gone... both of you have to get over that, get over trying to get revenge or whatever. We're not getting her back, and this... what we do... it brings the monsters us. _That's_ why we have to put salt around the house and freakin' spells in the groove of the car windows... _That's_ not normal Dean. _That's_ crazy... and I'm not," he shook his head. "I'm not crazy, and I won't let you or him try to tell me I am. I won't."

Hot tears started to streak down his cheeks. He wiped at them, angry at himself. "I just wanna be normal... why can't you let me? Why?"

* * *

There were a lot of times he felt like he just wanted to strangle Sam for picking fights with Dad and just doing everything in his power to make life as miserable as possible for this family. There were a lot of times when Dean felt like beating the shit out of his smart mouthed little brother, especially in the recent months.

This was the first time he actually followed through with that desire however.

Dean saw red. Sam had gone too far. Way too fucking far. If Sam wanted to criticize him, call him crazy, paranoid, hate him, blame him for all of his little brother’s misery, fine. If Sam wanted to mouth off about Dad, talk shit about their father and how much he hated their life that was Sam’s problem. But the little fucking bastard didn’t get to say a fucking word about their _mom_. The mom that Dean barely remembered anymore and Sam never even got to know because she had been _murdered_ by some evil son of a bitch… and Sam didn’t even fucking care…

Dean barely realized he was on his feet, and barely managed to uncurl his fist at the last second so it was only the flat of his palm that cracked loudly across the younger boy’s face. He knew guilt would hit him hard and fast later for hitting Sam, but right now he didn’t give a damn.

“Fuck you, you ungrateful little shit!” Dean yelled, standing over the younger boy, his whole body practically vibrating with fury, with the desire to give Sam more than just a fucking bloody nose or bruised lip. Maybe if he bruised up that too fucking pretty face enough maybe he would stop looking at Sam. Maybe if he split those too full lips, then he wouldn’t want to kiss them anymore.

“You know what? Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want! Go out with your fucking ‘friends’! Go out fucking camping! Get out! Go get yourself gutted, or burned, or liquefied like the rest of the _normal_ people out there! I don’t fucking care!” Dean practically screamed, launching his half full bottle of beer at the wall above Sam’s head before stalking back into the kitchen, grabbing his car keys off the shelf, and slamming the screen door so hard this time that one of the hinges actually came off.

A few seconds later he was in his car, one of his old classic rock tapes he knew Sam hated blaring at a deafening level as he peeled out of the garage, tires kicking up a mountain of dust on their dirt driveway as he floored it to the main road. Never once looking back. 

* * *

His mind made sluggish by the liquor, Sam watched as if in slow motion, the broad sweep of Dean’s hand before the heavy slap landed, sending his head to the side and his face into the back of the couch. His soft cry split the air at the unexpected violence from his own brother, as his nerveless fingers lost their grip on the bottle. It tumbled, caught the edge of the old coffee table and shattered before it hit the ground.

A dull roar filled his ears followed a blinding flash of pain, and making it almost impossible for him to understand what Dean was shouting at him. He’d hit him... Dean had struck him for real, like he was one of the things they hunted and killed. He’d drawn blood, and he wasn’t sorry. Sam could practically see Dean shaking with anger and hate, looking at him in a way he never had before.

He was used to the anger and frustration... common expressions in his brother’s eyes lately, but the hate... that ripped him up but good on the inside. He tried to keep the tears in, tried but failed to prevent himself from raising his arm in a protective motion in case the second blow followed.

And then it was over, his ears still ringing with Dean’s last hateful words. _Get out_ he’d shouted, and Sam knew Dean meant it. Earlier he’d finally told the truth about being trapped ‘feeding him.’ Now this. Still dazed, he wiped his hand over his lip and wasn’t surprised at the blood in his palm. He’d tasted and smelled it, and now he his lip was stinging, reminding him again of the pain his brother had inflicted.

Fine he’d go. The only reason he’d stuck around before was Dean. Even though his brother could treat him like shit, most of the time, he hadn’t. Sam knew Dean had gone beyond the call of duty to make things okay for him when their dad was gone, that he’d tried to play both mom and dad, that he’d protected him in ways he might never even really understand. He’d been there for him. And all of that tied them together, and deep down, even though Dean had been the protector, Sam knew Dean needed him too. That they had a connection between them, a history, even the ability to almost read each other, something that Sam wasn’t sure that Dean was ready to let go of yet, or ever. He hadn’t run away because he thought he could slowly break the news to Dean that one day he’d be gone, just to college, but he’d be gone.

He glanced at the door. Dean had just made the decision easier. He’d shown Sam that everything Sam thought he knew about Dean had been a lie. His brother didn’t need him. He was just doing his ‘duty’ by their dad, and couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

Mentally, he made a list of all the things he would need to pack, then got up and took a determined step. Pain, sharper than Dean’s blow had him shouting and hopping to the other sofa, and dropping down. By the time he peeled his thinly soled sneakers off, there was blood all over the floor.

The thick piece of class that had sliced him had fallen off but there was a smaller one lodged in right next to the crescent shaped cut in the middle of his foot. Gritting his teeth and clamping down on the sound of pain, he gripped its edge and slowly eased it out, tears flowing as he started to curse and blamed Dean. Now he couldn’t fucking ride his bike and get the hell away from here. From them. From _him_.

That last thought, something that would never have crossed his mind hurt him in places deep inside his heart. Pulling up from the couch, he headed for the bedroom, completely uncaring of the trail he was leaving as he tried not to step in a way that would hurt more.

In the room, he went ahead and packed, because it would give him something to do. And it made him feel like he was proactively doing something. He wasn’t anyones doormat or punching bag, and he wasn’t the chain around their neck either. Fuck that. Fuck that and the tears that wouldn’t stop.

He tossed his bag pack next to his bed, then staggered slightly to the bathroom. He dropped his jeans shorts to the ground but kept his boxers on. Numb, he walked into a cold shower, letting the water wash the sweat and blood off him. He didn’t soap up, or dry off. Instead, he just walked back to his bed and flopped down on it cross-wise, laying on his stomach, and torturing himself with his thoughts until oblivion claimed him.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had never had any trouble getting into bars. His father had given him his first fake ID when he was sixteen, mostly to help him hustle for some quick extra cash, but the older man had never complained whenever Dean had sat down with him at the bar for a beer or even harder liquor. Back then it had been a little iffy if his father wasn't there to pass off for twenty one, but now that Dean was nineteen none of the bartenders ever looked sideways at him when he flashed his ID and asked for a drink.  


  
One of the bad things about small hick towns, especially small hick towns where they'd been holed up for a while, was that everyone knew everyone. Even in small run down bars. They would have pegged him for John's son, John's underage son, and kicked him out pretty much as soon as he walked through the door, no matter how good friends his father might be with the bartender. So Dean had drove two towns over before stopping at the shittiest little run down shack of a waterhole he'd seen in months. It fit his mood perfectly.

Still boiling in his anger at the younger boy Dean had first drank to try to cool that anger, and then afterwards he'd drank to forget his overwhelming guilt for having actually _hit_ Sam. Not in a sparring match where neither of them pulled any punches, or when they sometimes wrestled and a stray elbow or knee might draw blood. He had hit his brother in anger and while part of him hated himself for it, smaller part of him insisted the little fucktard had deserved it and he wasn't sorry, which only made him hate himself more.

Sam hated him. Right now he supposed he couldn't really blame the younger boy, after what Dean had done. Maybe he was crazy. But everything he had ever done in his life had been for Sam. Ever since he'd carried his baby brother out of that fucking fire, he'd sworn he'd look after Sam, made sure nothing ever happened to him, made sure nothing and no one ever hurt him. He'd protected his little brother from bullies at school. He'd protected his little brother from all the fucking monsters out there, human and supernatural alike. He'd always made sure Sam had food in his belly and someplace to sleep, even when Dad wasn't always around to make that happen… and Sam hated him for it…

But why shouldn't Sam hate him? Especially now? After he'd fucking hit the younger boy. Every time he thought of it he wanted to get back in his car and drive home with the gas pedal floored to make sure Sam was ok, to make sure Sam hadn't left, to say he was sorry, over and over, he was sorry for being such a fucked up brother. Because maybe Sam hated him because a part of Sam knew about Dean's sick and twisted thoughts. He'd tried to keep them hidden, but maybe Sam had sensed it anyway. That when Dean looked at him his older brother noticed things he shouldn't be noticing. How Dean dreamed sometimes dreamed about kissing Sam's plump lips when they were pouting, or imagining how his brother's developing muscles would feel underneath his hands if he slid it up underneath his shirt or down his jeans…

Dean drank to drown out his thoughts. To drown out his guilt. To drown out his anger. To drown out his need. To forget about how Sam hated him, and how he loved his brother way too damned much. The bar was the kind of place that didn't give a damn if the customers got into fights as long as no one was knifed and nothing was broken. That night Dean got into three brawls, two he won, the last one he lost only because there were five of them and he was so drunk by then he could barely stand. Still he was so drunk by that point he barely felt the bruises, even though he limped quite a bit on his way out to his car. Shame that, after the way he'd hit his brother he deserved more than a little pain.

Yeah, on some level he knew it was really fucking stupid to try driving home when he was this fucking drunk, but most of him didn't fucking care. He didn't even care when he tried to take a corner too fast and the Impala ran off the road, slamming into a tree.

* * *

  
_He_ was hungry. So very hungry.

He’d combed neighborhood after neighborhood, and hadn’t found one who could satisfy him. Until now.

Waves of pain, of lust, of regret, of guilt and self loathing permeated the air. Impossible love. Impossible need. Dirty, forbidden, taboo…

_He_ practically wailed as he circled the air, seeking, searching the source of those emotions, practically tasting them, envisioning himself gorging, exhausting his victim, exacting his price. It would be beautiful…

There. It was coming from that vehicle smashed against a tree, with its engine still running. Smiling, he dropped to the ground and passed through the locked passenger door to sit down next to the driver. Handsome. Bleeding and marred, but handsome. More importantly, he was filled with emotions… they raged and battled in him constantly. _He_ could give the boy peace.

Touching his shoulder without any perceptible pressure, he started to read what was in the boy’s mind. He filtered through his memories, saw every triumph and every failure. So many self perceived failures, so many hurts and aches, and a secret, unspeakable desire for his brother. His… _baby_ brother.

This would be easy, but he had to be careful. This one was a hunter by nature. He’d have to be sucked in, immersed into the game before he figured out what was going on while he still had the strength to fight it.

Pulling the visor down, he looked at himself. A teenager appeared in the mirror, with longish hair, a strong jaw for one so young, and eyes meant for the bedroom. No wonder _that one_ , Dean, wanted him. He looked down at his long limbs, and the firm muscles of a physically fit youth. Then he turned his sights on the driver, still slumped half way on the steering wheel.

Shutting the engine off, he shook Dean. “Hey, Dean… wake up.” Sam licked the blood off his mouth, but felt fresh blood forming.

* * *

Dean groaned softly.

He wasn’t sure where he was. He wasn’t sure what was happening. He knew he was in the car… his car… but he wasn’t sure how he knew it. Probably from the steering wheel jammed against his ribs uncomfortably. His chest ached sharply with every slow breath he took. His head pounded like someone had been using a jackhammer on it. He could feel blood dripping down his face from somewhere in his hairline, his short hair already sticky with it. His face was bruised. He tasted blood in his mouth, on his lips…

The hunter in him ticked off one hurt after another by instinct but he still wasn’t sure what had happened. The fact that he knew he was in the car should have been a clue, the heavy smell of alcohol should have been another. But he was still having trouble putting two and two together. His head was swimming in an ocean of alcohol and pain and his thoughts moved like molasses on a cold day, slow and sluggish.

His eyes slid open slowly, his vision fuzzy and unfocused. He blinked the blood out of his eyes and slowly the face of his brother swam into view.

“Sammy?” He whispered, his voice unsure, not quite believing what his eyes were telling him. What was Sam doing here? Something told him that Sam shouldn’t be here… he wasn’t sure why though… he couldn’t think… Maybe he was dreaming… or hallucinating… concussions could do that. Yeah, he had to be, since Sam was sitting next to him in the seat buck naked. If he was hallucinating though, couldn’t he hallucinate himself hurting a little less?

Dean managed to get his hands underneath him and tried to push himself away from the steering wheel a little, but almost immediately gave up with another groan of pain, letting himself slump weakly back against it. He blinked owlishly at his brother who may or may not have really been there but was still definitely naked. But if Sam really was there, maybe he had been in the accident too. Maybe he was hurt?

“You ok, Sam?” He asked, concern lacing his voice. 

* * *

Sam shook his head, “not really.” He let that sink in, knowing the power of the idea of a hurt Sam had on Dean Winchester. “You hurt me.” Taking Dean’s limp hand, he brought it to the corner of his mouth, where his lip was split. “You’re gonna make it better. _After_ I fix you.”

Leaning close to Dean and brushing against his arm, he took the keys from the ignition, opened the door and slipped out, moving very slowly, watching Dean from over his shoulder until he was behind the car and looking at him through the window. He opened the trunk, got the first aid kit, slammed it shut and met Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Looking down, he walked back around the car and got inside. “Sit back,” he said softly, using a cotton swab and alcohol to clean Dean’s wounds. Then he got on his knees on the chair, and leaned across Dean to take care of a cut below his far eye. Sam concentrated hard, bringing his face close to Dean’s and holding his tongue in the corner of his mouth, just inches from Dean’s. “Look up… almost done.”

* * *

  
Not really? Was Sam hurt? Dean blinked, trying to force his mind to clear. Letting his eyes look more closely at his brother’s body, something he’d tried to avoid doing lately, but especially when the younger boy was lacking clothing… like now. But if Sam was hurt he had to know where so he could… Dean’s thoughts froze midway when Sam clarified. Reminding him how _Dean_ had hurt him. How he’d… hit his brother… in anger earlier tonight. Dean inhaled sharply when the younger boy took his hand, pressing it to his jaw where it was bruised, Dean’s eyes tearing a little when he took in the younger boy’s split and swollen lip.

“I’m s…” Dean began to apologize, but again his thoughts not to mention his words were cut off when Sam leaned closer to him. Brushing up against him as the younger boy took the keys to his car out of the ignition. Got out… where was Sam going? Dean heard the trunk open and close. Sam returned soon, with their first aid kit, and Dean managed a slight nod when his brother told him to sit back even though it hurt his neck.

This time when he tried to push himself up off the steering wheel he managed, another groan of pain escaping his lips, every muscle in his chest, arms and back felt bruised, and his vision swam a little as he sat back in the seat. He noticed the windshield was broken and there was blood on the steering wheel. His blood. Dean turned his head to look at Sam again, wanting to ask his brother again if he were ok. If he was this banged up…

But then his brother was cleaning his cuts and Dean closed his eyes, hissing softly at the sting of the alcohol. His brother was quick and efficient as always. His eyes fluttered open almost of their own will when Sam leaned over him. His heart beginning to beat a little faster and not able to help it. Sam was so close. Looking at him so intently. His eyes focused. His little pink tongue sticking out a little like he used to when concentrating hard on something, driving Dean crazy. Dean swallowed hard, lifting his chin as he was told so Sam could finish cleaning most of the blood off his face. He swore he could feel Sam's breath on his lips...

Was this a dream? It felt so... real... but...

* * *

He had Dean’s attention. He had his mind nice and clouded, with need, with confusion… just enough to make this all seem like a dream, to make it okay for Dean to participate in what he wouldn’t do in the light of day. He took his time, cleaning wounds that weren’t even there, focusing on them, on Dean like his brother was the center of his world.

The cotton slipped from his fingers. Eyes locked with his brothers, Sam fumbled for it, his hands brushing repeatedly over Dean’s cock. Giving a rueful smile, he leaned down, gripping Dean’s thigh, and then reaching between his legs to the floor board. He stretched, swaying back and forth a little, then using Dean’s body to climb back up.

Putting a hand on his brother’s face, once again he turned it and finished up. He tossed the cotton ball onto the passenger seat. “My turn, Dean.” Lifting his face, he distinctly said, “kiss it better.”

* * *

Sam was so damned close. He could feel the heat of the younger boy’s body soaking through his clothes. He could definitely feel his brother’s breath on his lips. He could practically taste it. So much sweeter than his own, laced with the harsh taste of alcohol and blood. Sam’s eyes were so close to his own they were almost all he could see, he felt like he was drowning in them, he couldn’t have looked away if he tried.

Then Sam accidentally dropped the cotton he was wiping his face off with. It had to be an accident. But when Sam’s hand went to retrieve it… Dean inhaled sharply when his brother’s hand went between his legs, searching for the fallen swap and every aching muscle in Dean’s body drew taunt. Especially the one where the younger boy’s fingers kept brushing…

The groan that escaped Dean’s lips then was definitely not from pain, and shame quickly followed. He was about to tell the younger boy to just forget about the damned cotton swab, when his brother leaned over him, his hands on his thighs for support, his face almost between his knees, giving Dean a splendid view of his long pale back. All soft pale skin practically glowing in the moonlight leading down to the perfect swell of his ass, and Dean’s fingers itched to run his palms over the baby soft cheeks.

Dean was breathing noticeably faster when Sam finally straightened and finished cleaning off his face. He was about to relax, figuring Sam would sit back now that he was done, but the younger boy’s words made him blink stupidly for a few moments before they finally clicked.

Kiss it…

It was said so innocently. Like when Sam had been four and had fallen and skinned his knee on the sidewalk and Dad hadn’t been able to make him stop crying. Only his eight year old big brother had calmed him down when Dean kissed the tiny scrape better. Now the request sent an incredible rush of heat straight south and his stomach twisted violently in shame as he felt himself hardening even more.

Still the way Sam was looking at him. Hopeful, expectant, innocent… Dean found himself slowly leaning forward, letting his lips brush lightly over the younger boy’s lower lip where it had been split by his own hand earlier. 

* * *

The surge of emotions in Dean sent the blood rushing beneath Sam’s skin, making him flush all over. He needed more, so much more from Dean.

He hardly moved as Dean’s mouth touched his lip, just touched. Before Dean could pull back, Sam turned his head slightly, forcing Dean’s mouth to brush against his again. He gave an audible intake of his breath, and licked his lip, touching Dean’s with his tongue at the same time. “Make it better, Dean. You know how.” He pressed closer, swallowing hard as he heard Dean’s heart knocking against his chest.

Their mouths still barely touching, Sam put his hand on Dean’s thigh, moving it up and down, hoping to confuse… to mix him up. A tear squeezed out of the corner of his eyes. “Take away the hurt. Make it better. Dean?”

* * *

Dean held his breath when Sam’s mouth brushed his again, and then it all rushed out of him when he felt the tip of his brother’s tongue touch his lips. His lips felt tight and he felt flushed all over. Sam’s desperate words making him groan… and god did he really sound so obscene? This was his little brother, damn it, he couldn’t. Sam…

Better… make it better…

This had to be a dream, this had to… he must have knocked his head really hard on the steering wheel, hell, maybe his head even went through the windshield. He must have a bad concussion, maybe he was even in a coma or something having a really fucked up vivid fantasy… and Dean couldn’t say he really cared.

His breath began to come out in short quick pants as Sam’s hand moved along his thigh. God, he was so hard. He ached… ached so damned much… Sam had been making him ache for years now. Take away the hurt… make it better… yes, he knew what would make it better...

When Dean pressed his mouth against his brother’s again it wasn’t light or chaste this time. Neither was the moan that escaped him, the hand that came to rest on the back of Sam's neck, pulling his little brother closer, the tongue that slipped out of his mouth to swipe across his brother’s split lip, or how he sucked that sweet lower lip into his mouth. He felt the shame, he felt the guilt, he felt how sick he was for wanting this, but none of it mattered right now. Nothing mattered to him but the younger boy’s exquisite taste as he pushed his tongue past those soft lips into the sweet warmth of Sam’s mouth. 

* * *

The more Dean fought against his desires, the more he berated himself for them even as he gave in, the more _he_ enjoyed taking the essence of Dean’s emotions. So pure, unadulterated, so powerful, so delightful, it sent pure pleasure to every nerve center of the being.

At first, Sam was passive, letting Dean explore every corner of his mouth, ever so gently, even as the pressure his hand was putting on the back of his head, holding him in place, told him Dean wanted much more. He gave a low moan and curled his tongue experimentally around Dean’s, pushing himself closer. Dean’s response emboldened Sam.

Mouths still locked together, he pushed Dean against the back of the chair. Simultaneously, the chair slipped back, away from the steering wheel, and Sam straddled Dean’s hips. The instant he felt any resistance, he moved against Dean, rubbing his ass too gently over his arousal, making him need so much more.

Sam’s hands fluttered at the hem of Dean’s shirt, pushing it up wards and making a small sound. Immediately, Dean helped him peel it off his body, tossing it to the back seat. They stared at each other for a long moment, and before the spell could break, Sam thrust his hips forward, pressing the hard knot between his own legs against Dean’s bare abs.

“Hurts.” He gave his brother a watery smile. “Make it better.” And then he covered Dean’s mouth with his, and plastered himself to his brother. Let him hate himself for this. Let him curse himself for being all sorts of perverted, but he couldn’t resist, no, he’d never be able to resist.

* * *

Dean practically whimpered into his brother’s mouth when he felt Sam’s tongue curl around his own, stroking gently, a little insecure, a little inexperienced, but so damned good. Then Sam was pushing him back, climbing into his lap, and Dean’s brain practically short circuited. He knew he shouldn’t… he knew they couldn’t… this was wrong, even if it was only a fucked up dream of his own perverted fantasies it was still wrong. Even if it was only in his mind, it was still his baby brother he was molesting… But the feel of Sam’s ass pressing down on his hard cock trapped inside his jeans erased all thoughts of stopping from his mind.

Oh fuck, he was so hard, so hard he was hurting. His heart was beating so damned fast in his chest he thought he might just blow it out if this kept up. Maybe he should be worrying about a heart attack? Or a stroke? Maybe he was bleeding in his brain and that’s why he was hallucinating like this? He had just been in a fucking accident after all… but all Dean could really care about was Sam’s taste, the weight of him in his lap, his brother’s tongue in his mouth… even if it was just a fantasy, a fucked up illusion, dream whatever, he didn’t care.

His hands settled on the warm soft skin of his brother’s thighs and Dean groaned obscenely into his little brother’s mouth. Making small encouraging sounds in his throat when he felt Sam’s hands on him. Never once stopping kissing his brother, until he felt the younger boy’s hand pulling up his shirt. Only then did Dean tear his lips away from the younger boy, yanking off his shirt with little care of how his muscles screamed in protest of the movement. He felt blood dripping down his neck again, he tasted it from the various cuts on his face, and his vision swam a little in and out of focus as he stared at his little brother, but Dean didn’t care.

“Sammy…” Dean panted, groaning low in his throat when he felt Sam press closer, rubbing his hardening cock against his stomach and Dean’s hands settled on his brother’s ass. Tugging him closer, moaning as he kissed his brother again deeply, thrusting his tongue into that sweet young mouth and taking everything being offered. Not caring about the consequences. Encouraging Sam to fuck against him, his own hips lifting off the seat to rub against Sam’s ass. Groaning in pleasure and frustration at the layers of cloth still separating them, but too afraid to take that last step. 

* * *

Sam put one hand on the ceiling and writhed almost too gently against his brother, deliberately heightening Dean’s frustration, fueling it with exaggerated gyrations of his body that enflamed rather than satisfied. He made little sounds against his brother’s mouth, took quick audible breaths, all geared to seem innocent but to drive Dean to the very edge.

When Dean’s fingers started to bite into his skin, Sam broke the kiss, leaned back and watched Dean under his lashes. He looked so deliciously tortured. So hot, so undecided, his eyes glazed with lust, his mouth wet with Sam’s spit...

Sam opened his mouth licked around the edges of his lips, knowing he had Dean’s rapt attention. In and out, he let his own tongue suggest the other uses his mouth could be put to. He knew the exact moment Dean got the message, the exact moment Dean felt his precum smearing cross his abs, and the exact moment there was no turning back.

Landing his mouth messily over Dean’s, he kissed him... plastered himself against him, like he’d never let go, raising and lowering himself... increasing the friction between his cock and Dean’s toned flesh, and his ass against Dean’s cock. This would last for hours and hours... he’d keep siphoning, never letting Dean have complete satisfaction... keep him wanting, so tomorrow night he’d be begging.... waiting... dying for him.

* * *

Dean’s head fell back against the seat with a moan that was as much pain as pleasure, as much satisfaction as frustration. His eyes glazed with lust and heavy with desire, he saw nothing but Sam, as he watched his beautiful little brother moving over him. He groaned at the feeling of the younger boy fucking against his stomach and rocking against his trapped erection. Feeling the hot slick trails Sam left across his skin making him shudder and it felt so good and hurt so much at the same time he simply couldn’t stop whimpering and moaning at the pleasure/pain.

“Sam… Sammy…” Dean panted his brother’s name over and over, his fingers digging into the warm flesh of the younger boy’s hips, sliding around to grip the soft round globes of his ass when his brother kissed him again.

He was oblivious to everything but the soft wet tongue sliding in and out of his mouth, imagining what it might feel like on his nipples, on his cock. Sam’s cock was a heavy hot brand against his stomach and god what he wouldn’t give to wrap his lips around it, sucking and licking until his little brother’s seed exploded down his throat. He imagined his fingers delving into the hot crease of his ass, discovering the tight puckered hole, teasing it with his tongue and fingers, pushing inside, the first to ever explore that tight forbidden heat.

He wanted it, needed it, so much. He knew it was wrong, he knew it was all kinds of evil and he was the worst kind of pervert in the world for wanting it, and he didn’t care. It was only a dream, only a fantasy, why couldn’t he have it now, just this once?

Dean didn’t know how long it lasted. He never wanted it to end. He didn’t care how much the rest of him hurt, as long as Sam kept rubbing against him, letting him thrust against that perfect ass. He didn’t care about the blood he knew he was smearing across his brother’s pale flesh with his hands, or the blood stinging his eyes. He didn’t care about the darkness edging around his vision, only their pants and moans and the wet sound of their kisses drowning out everything else, even the sound of the sirens growing steadily louder.

“Sammy…” He whispered, pleading for more, more of Sam’s kisses and touches, even as his grip on the younger boy grew slack and the darkness finally rose up to claim him. 


	3. Chapter 3

The phone rang insistently, despite Sam's futile attempts to ignore it and put a pillow over his head. Last night fresh in his mind and in his dreams, he felt like crap... like he hadn't slept. Dammit, why couldn't Dean get the phone? He had to get up early for work anyway.  


  
Forcing an eye open and lifting his head, he looked over at his brother's bed. Empty. Was it later than he thought? Was Dean gone? Then it hit him, Dean had probably never come home.

Right... it was okay for _him_ to stay out all night without a ring of salt and protective spells. He wasn't gonna get the phone... it was probably Dean, feeling guilty or something. Let him. He fucking should.

The phone stopped for a few minutes, then started all over again. Cursing, he got off the bed, and instantly started to hop as the throbbing ache in his foot reminded him of his cut. Course that made Dean public enemy number one since it too was his damned fault.

Huffing under his breath, he picked up the phone. "What?" His crabby tone subsided the minute he was told there had been an accident. Dean ... Dean had been in a car accident. Sam felt like the earth had been cut out from under him. For a moment, he stuttered his questions, then pulled himself together. Winchester's didn't fall apart when shit went down.

Much calmer, he refused to answer their questions until they told him Dean's condition, and he could breath easier knowing his brother was banged up and had a concussion, but that he'd be fine. Then he muttered "No, dad's not here, and I don't have car." The voice on the other end was suggesting a taxi, but he hanged up.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, he was limping down the long hallway of the hospital, when he saw Dean emerge from a room. Seeing his brother's pallor, and the cuts and bruises on his face, Sam walked faster, hooking one arm over his brother's shoulder and putting his other hand on his back as he gave him a hug. Sure, he'd be pushed away and told Dean didn't do hugs, but it would be too late.

"You alright," he asked, almost meekly, speaking close to Dean's ear. "They said nothing's broken. Always knew you were hard-headed."

* * *

Dean woke up in the hospital.

That was bad enough, because if he had a list of places he’d rather fight a bunch of zombies than be, the hospital would be really damned close to the top. Of course what made it worse was he had also woken up with the worst fucking headache of his life. Though whether that was due to the alcohol or the concussion, the doctors helpfully informed him of, he wasn’t quite sure.

Thankfully his fake ID and his fake insurance card in his wallet both had the same name on it. Of course both would be pretty much useless to him after this because the cops were sure to slap Dean Miller with a DWI the first chance they got.

His dad was going to fucking kill him…

Dean had almost panicked for a moment when they told him they’d called his emergency contact before he remembered that Dad was away on a hunt. So maybe if he got the Impala out of impoundment and fixed up before his father got back, he’d be less dead meat. Since he wasn’t a minor (according to his fake ID) they had to let him check out of the hospital, even though the doctor wanted to keep him for another day for observation.

Fuck that, greedy money hungry bastards. His scans were all clean, he wasn’t bleeding into his brain, he wanted to go home, take a bottle of aspirin, and go to bed. Since he didn’t have his car, and couldn’t have driven it anyway, he asked them to call him a cab to take him home. The last thing Dean had expected when he walked out of his room was to almost literally run into Sam.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, wondering for a moment if he were hallucinating… again… and wondering if maybe the doctors were right and he should stick around for a little while. Then Sam was hugging him and he was too stunned to mutter up his normal “no-chick-flick” protests. Of course Sam pressed so close to him, the younger boy’s breath in his ear, made all kinds of thoughts and feelings Dean had no intention of examining right now churn around in his gut making him feel even more nauseous than he already was. Thankfully he felt too much like crap for any part of him to react… inappropriate.

“Ha ha.” Dean managed weakly at his brother’s lame joke, before grasping Sam’s shoulders and easing the younger boy away from him. His eyes taking in Sam’s worried face, the recent bruise on his jaw, and split lip. Guilt hitting him swiftly like a kick to the gut and he released his brother quickly, staring down at his shoes as though they had all the answers to the universe. Dean cleared his throat self consciously.

“I’m fine.” He finally answered the younger boy’s first question. Not sure what to say now, especially considering the last words he’d spoken to his brother… and even though he’d said all that, even though he’d smacked the younger boy hard enough to make him bleed, Sam was still here. How had he even gotten here without a car or anything? Dean felt about two inches tall at the moment.

“They… called me a cab. To go home…” There, that was easy enough. Start with the obvious, anything to get them past standing here in the middle of the hospital corridor. Especially since standing upright was proving to be quite unpleasant at the moment. He was already starting to sway a little unsteadily on his feet. If he fell on his ass in the hall way they would never let him leave…

* * *

After he was gently pushed away and before Dean spoke again, there was a moment of awkwardness. You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist or really good at reading your older brother to know what he was thinking about at that moment. There was really nothing to be said. What happened, happened. Neither of them would apologize... they’d just act like it never happened, just like they did after many other blow ups.

Only this one was different. Dean had never hit him like that before, and Sam wasn’t likely to forget. Still... he knew he’d pushed Dean’s buttons, mom being his biggest one, so maybe he should have expected it.

When Dean mentioned the cab, Sam shook his head. “Nah, I got Jake’s cousin to drive me over. He just graduated and has a car. He’s in the front, gonna give us a ride home.

Sure he knew Dean didn’t like his redneck friends, but like they were any better than them? Besides, it was better than paying for a taxi, and even Dean would have to agree.

“Want a wheelchair?” he asked, jutting his jaw toward some chairs lined against the wall, and smirking at Dean’s reaction. Wordlessly, he put his shoulder under Dean’s arm and started to help him walk to the door. “So what happened? They said you hit a tree.” There was a note of disbelief in his voice, and he expected Dean to clarify their story. It was a hundred times more likely that Dean had plowed over a demon or something that had wrecked the car.

* * *

When Sam mentioned his friend’s cousin giving them a ride home Dean was really too tired to argue, so he merely nodded. Immediately regretting the movement of course, his neck and back were so fucking stiff he felt like he could barely move.

Dean might not like the kid his brother had been hanging around with but it wasn’t like they really had the extra cash to spare anyway, especially if he was going to be out of work for a few days. Fuck, he should have already been at work. He was sure Susan would understand, he had been unconscious at the fucking hospital after a car accident after all, but he needed this job and couldn’t afford to have her give it to someone else.

He gave the younger boy a sour look when Sam mentioned the wheelchairs. He wasn’t fucking crippled after all. But he didn’t brush off the younger boy’s help to the door either. Maybe that said something.

Dean sighed heavily when his brother asked him about the accident. There wasn’t any real point in lying to his brother. Right now Dean didn’t think he could come up with anything more convincing, or that Sam wouldn’t know immediately was a lie, and needle him about it endlessly until he told him the truth.

“I was drunk.” He said simply. Hoping his brother would save the lecture until _after_ he’d had his bottle of aspirin and a nap. 

* * *

“Drunk.” Sam flatly said, looking over to search Dean’s face. There wasn’t a hint of a joke or any indication he was hiding something, he just looked weary. “Dean, you know better. You could have—“

They were outside and Jake’s fool of a cousin was honking his horn like they were going to a party or something. Sighing, he gave Dean a look that said this wasn’t finished, then he tugged the door of the truck open. Favoring one foot, he got inside and scooted to the center, leaving room for Dean to get in next to him.

Country music.

Sam grinned as he looked at Dean’s pained expression. Not that he was enjoying it, but Dean liked to inflict some of his loud-assed music on him so it was fun seeing him having to take someone else’s crap.

“Toby, this is Dean. My brother.”

Toby looked Dean over. “He doesn’t look that tough for the hard ass you say he is.”

Sighing again, Sam just looked out the front window. It was gonna be a long drive.

* * *

Dean grimaced a little in pain at the loud honking horn and almost changed his mind about the whole taxi versus them getting a ride home with this moron. But Sam didn’t really give him much of a choice, getting into the truck and leaving him to follow.

The entire drive Dean remained silent, staring out the passenger side window and tuning out the idiot driving as he tuned out the music, if you could even call that crap music. More like torture for the auditory senses. He rested his head against the glass, keeping himself pressed as close to the door as he could so he and Sam weren’t touching. He also made sure to keep his breaths shallow, so he wouldn’t… smell… his brother.

Which just sounded really stupid but all of his senses seemed hyper aware of the younger boy right now, and he couldn’t turn them off, so he ignored them as best he could. Unfortunately not looking at Sam, not touching Sam, not _smelling_ Sam, did nothing to stop the memories of his dream from torturing him. He still remembered how beautiful Sam had looked writhing on his lap. He still remembered the taste of the younger boy’s lips and flesh. He still remembered the sounds of his brother’s moans and the feel of his bare skin beneath his hands…

When they finally got home the truck was barely stopped before Dean opened the door and got out, heading straight for the front door as fast as he could without even an offer of thanks for the ride. After letting himself inside the house Dean went straight for the medicine cabinet and downed about five aspirin at once.

“I’m going to bed.” Dean told his brother simply when he heard the back door open but didn’t look at the younger boy as he headed down the hall to their father’s room. Unfortunately the house their Dad had rented wasn’t big enough for them to have separate rooms, but when John was away it was pretty much a given Dean would be taking over the extra room for himself.

He’d call work later… Dean decided as he collapsed face down on the bed with a groan. Hoping sleep would claim him quickly. 

* * *

Even though he chatted with Toby, the drive back was extremely uncomfortable for Sam since his brother was being an unsociable douche bag. He ignored Toby’s questions and basically pretended neither of them were in the car with him. Sam scrutinized his face, and for once, he could get no reading on what Dean was thinking. Maybe he was still angry. Yeah, he probably blamed him for getting drunk, getting the car wrecked and his license probably pulled.

When they got there, Dean shot out of the car like a bat out of hell, without even a freakin’ ‘thank you.’ Embarrassed, Sam got out and did his own thanking. “Told you he’s an asshole,” he aid with a shrug, as if that explained everything.

Toby was thick skinned and just gave the thumbs up, honking as he hightailed it out of there, kicking up a bunch of dust.

Sam was still coughing when he got inside just in time for Dean to announce he was gonna go rest. Waiting a few minutes, he followed Dean to their dad’s room and opened the door. “I called your boss. She said to just call her tonight and let her know if you’ll be in tomorrow.” There was a long silence, and Sam started to leave, thinking Dean had slid into a bad mood or he was asleep, though he doubted it.

* * *

Dean heard the door of their father’s room open and groaned almost inaudibly into the pillow. God damn it, why couldn’t Sam just give him a little break? Couldn’t the younger boy could go back to torturing him after he’d slept off the worst of this fucking hangover/concussion? He was only asking for a few hours of peace and quiet, was that really too much to ask?

He was a little bit surprised when the younger boy didn’t launch into his aborted lecture regarding the idiocy of drunk driving and how he could have gotten himself killed instead of just his head banged bad enough to have a really fucking hot dream about having sex with his baby brother… Instead telling him he’d already called his job, that he apparently still had after all, and he should call his boss later on if he was well enough to show up tomorrow.

Dean was so stunned he wasn’t exactly sure what to say, and he just laid there for a moment, wondering if he was hallucinating again, until he heard the floor board creek signaling that the younger boy was going to leave.

“Thanks, Sammy.” Dean finally spoke, hopefully loud enough for the other boy to hear even though he didn’t lift his head from the pillow. Not wanting his brother to see the telltale wetness in his eyes from the sudden emotion that welled up inside of him threatening to choke him. 

* * *

Sam nodded. "Call me if you need anything." He left the door slightly ajar and headed to the living room. About to flop down onto the sofa, he saw the bloodied mess he'd left, not that he'd forgotten... his foot still throbbed with pain.

Bringing the dust bin, he took care of all the glass. Then he used a wet cloth to rub the blood stains out of the wooden floor. Crap, a pinkish tinge remained because he'd left it there too long and it had sunk into the wood. Getting some hydrogen peroxide, Sam worked on it some more, scrubbing mindlessly.

Only his mind was working too hard, on the events that lead to his accident. He kept reviewing what he'd said to Dean, right before big brother popped him and his world turned on its axis. He'd seen Dean as a lot of things in his life time. Caretaker. Big brother. Protector. Dad's asshole second. Friend. The one person he would trust to be at his back at all times. But never _enemy_. Never someone who'd hit him in anger like that. He'd seen a flash in his brother's eyes, like he hadn't wanted to stop. And it made Sam sick, because he didn't want to believe it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see that he'd deserved it. God he so wanted to talk it out with Dean, cause he didn't know what to do now. He'd been ready to hit the road today, he still might later, he told himself. But not while Dean was recovering. He had to make sure his brother was okay, before he left him.

As the day progressed and got hotter, Sam became more restless. He'd taken water and aspiring to Dean a couple of times, but there had been no conversation. Whether Dean was in pain from the alcohol or accident, he wasn't saying.

After watching some t.v., and taking a book out to the porch and reading for a while, Sam realized he was getting hungry. There wasn't much in the cabinets or fridge, not even cereal. Well there was cereal, but he'd finished the milk.

Pulling himself up, he went inside and changed the bandages on his foot, then shoved it back into sneakers. Taking a quick look into Dean's room, he left quietly, grabbing a twenty out of his brother's wallet.

Another moment later, he was bicycling away toward town. At least the sun would set on his way back and it would be a little cooler. Who was he kidding, it would be just as hot but the sun wouldn't beat down on him.

* * *

Dean had slept for most of the day. He woke up a few times when Sam came into the room to bring him some aspirin (bless him) and water, staying awake only long enough to swallow down the pills before passing out again. At some point during the day he’d taken off his shirt and didn’t even bother getting underneath the light sheet because it was so fucking hot. The heat making him feel nauseous, even more so than just from the concussion and hangover, and he might have gotten up to throw up a few times too, but he didn’t really remember.

It was approaching evening now, Dean could tell by the slant of the light coming through the window falling across his sweaty back. He didn’t feel quite as sick as before, thank god. He must have slept off most of the effects of the hangover, though his head still pounded fiercely from the concussion.

Aspirin… definitely more aspirin was needed. Sam hadn’t brought him any for a while, the younger boy must have gotten tired of playing nurse maid for his pathetic older brother.

Dean groaned softly as he pushed himself up from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. After relieving himself, taking a few more painkillers, and brushing the foulness from his teeth he felt marginally more human. He made his way into the kitchen then, remembering he had to call his boss he did. Reassuring the middle aged woman that he was fine, nothing broken, and yes he’d be into work tomorrow. Dean knew he couldn’t afford to be out of work, especially now. Since he’d probably have to pay to get the Impala out of impoundment or something as well as feeding his brother. Maybe he could work extra hours for the next few days to make up for the time he lost today…

Speaking of Sam, his brother was probably hungry. Damn it, he needed to go grocery shopping, which was going to be pretty tough to do without a fucking car. But he thought there might be a package of frozen hot dogs in the fridge and a can of beans left under the counter. Unless Sam already finished them off. Guess he should make sure his brother hadn’t already eaten before he cooked anything, he wasn’t feeling up to eating anything himself so if Sam had there wasn’t much point.

“Sammy?” He called and frowned slightly when he didn’t get an answer. Not like Sam wouldn’t hear him, the house wasn’t that big. Dean didn’t hear the television on in the living room but he checked there anyway in case his brother was reading (the geek) or taking a nap, then he checked outside on the porch knowing it was another of the younger boy’s favorite spots to read. Lastly he checked their room, what was normally their room but now Sam’s while Dad was gone, and froze in the doorway. Sam wasn’t there, but when his eyes fell on the clothes strewn about and the packed duffle by the bed Dean felt himself go cold.

He’d told Sam to get out… to leave… yesterday… He hadn’t meant it, he’d been angry, pissed… hurt… by what his brother had said. But he hadn’t meant it, he didn’t want Sam to go, he loved that boy more than anything despite what a pain in the ass he could be. He never thought Sam would actually leave… even if Sam did hate him…

“Sam!” Dean ran back to the back door, throwing it open, and called his brother’s name desperately a few more times. God damn it. Dad was going to kill him… if Dean didn’t do it himself… and he didn’t even have a car and couldn’t go looking for Sam. Dean took a few deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. Sam’s bag had still been in his room, which meant the younger boy hadn’t actually left, he’d just gone out, right? Sam wasn’t dumb enough to just take off with only the shirt on his back. God damn him, he was going to kill that brat for taking off without telling him. He didn’t care if the boy _was_ almost sixteen, he was going to take him over his knee the minute he stepped through that door… if he came back…

Feeling sick, like he just might throw up again, Dean went back into the house and collapsed on the sofa in the living room, burying his face in his hands. Hot tears burning his eyes and his throat tight with despair.

“Please come back… Sammy…”

 

* * *

It was a long hot ride, so once he got to town, Sam was more than happy to hang out for a little while and relax. He’d cooled off in the grocery store, taking his time as he picked up a few necessities, milk being the most important, but he wasn’t going to overload himself since he was biking it. After wasting as much time as he could ‘using’ the stores air conditioning services, he walked out and crossed the street to the diner.

He ran into some school friends and sat and had a coke with them. They were swapping stories about what they’d done or would do over summer vacation and when they turned to him, he just gave an unsmiling shrug. “Nothing planned.”

Yeah, how lame did that sound? It wasn’t always gonna be this way, he told himself. One day he’d have real plans, the kind you could share with people. Someday he wouldn’t have to lie about why no one could come over, why group homework had to be done in the library or at someone else’s home. He changed the topic, and then was a bit surprised at home many of them didn’t plan on taking the SATs. Their parents wanted them to, but they couldn’t be bothered. He gave a semi bitter laugh. Life sucked.

One of the girls mentioned a party in a few days, and he just nodded but knew he probably wouldn’t go. If he stayed, Dean would find ten reasons why he shouldn’t be out at night and remind him that school events were different. Right, well maybe he wouldn’t tell Dean. Maybe he’d go.

That was when he saw that it was getting dark. “Gotta go,” he got up and waved at them, then went to the counter to pick up two sandwiches and a soup. He made sure they packed them well and put them in a double plastic wrap, before heading out and putting all his bags over the handlebars of his bike.

Yeah… he looked like a dork. Hoping his friends hadn’t seen him, he took off, pedaling as fast as he could, despite the burning sensation under one foot. It was cooler now, but the air was still warm and sticky, and the exercise had him covered in a sheen of sweat by the time he got home and hopped off, pushing the bike up against the porch wall.

The light on the porch was on so Dean had to be up, or had been at some point. He pushed the front door open and stepped inside. “Dean?” He took a couple more steps and saw his brother laying on the sofa. “I got dinner. You want soup or sandwich, or is that a dumb question?” Depending on the answer, he’d know how his brother was doing, but the fact that he was out of the bedroom meant he was on the mend.

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there on the couch before he forced himself to move. Forced himself to do something “productive” rather than sit and wallow in guilt and misery.

First thing was first, he made a few calls, called in every favor he could, used up most of what little he had in his bank account in a check over the phone to pay the fine to get his car out of impoundment, and arranged for the Impala to be dropped off at the local garage. He had a friend at the garage so he’d be able to keep it there, though Dean couldn’t afford to have it fixed, he’d have to do it himself, which wasn’t a bad thing except until he could he’d be without a car and that meant walking everywhere.

Next thing, even though he really fucking didn’t want to right now, he called their father knowing the older man would expect an update from him. Of course Dean had lied out his ass, telling the older man that everything was fine, no trouble at all. Either he’d gotten a lot better at lying to his father than he realized or his dad was just too distracted by the hunt right now to notice it. Whichever reason Dean was glad for it when his father didn’t ask him any questions, giving him only the typical “take care of your brother” line before hanging up.

Dean had run to the bathroom and thrown up again after the phone call.

The next few hours Dean had spent curled up on the couch, waiting. Feeling sick in body, heart, and soul. Every time he thought he heard a noise outside he’d gotten up and rushed to the door, expecting, hoping, it was Sam… every time he returned to the couch feeling just a little more sick. What if Sam didn’t come home? What if his brother really had decided to simply leave, even with nothing more than the clothes on his back… Did Sam really hate him so much? What if he did…

Dean wasn’t sure exactly when he’d fallen asleep, passed out was more like it, but he woke up to the sound of his brother’s voice and for a moment he really thought the younger boy standing in front of him was just a dream. He stared at his brother mutely for a few minutes before he slowly pushed himself up into a more or less sitting position.

“Where the fuck were you?” Dean was a little surprised how soft and rough his voice sounded to his own ears, rather than the angry shout he’d almost expected the question to come out as. 

* * *

“In town. Got some food,” Sam answered, with a shrug, looking at Dean, really looking at him. It was as if there was some secret message that Dean was trying to convey, but if there was, he didn’t get it. One thing he was pretty certain about was that despite the language, Dean wasn’t angry right this moment.

When Dean didn’t say anything immediately, he put his hand out to touch Dean’s forehead. He was warm and clammy, but then it was so freakin’ hot. “You’re kind of flushed, maybe you should hit the shower, cool off. Even if you don’t have a fever, you’ll feel better. I’ve been doing it all day… could it be hotter?” He rolled his eyes, and walked away to put the milk and ice cream in the fridge. For a few moments, he let the cold air from the fridge cool him off, but he couldn’t stand there all night.

When he got back, he took his burger out of the bag, and then put the sandwich and soup out in front of Dean. “I got some milk and ice cream,” he said as he dug into his pocket and brought out Dean’s change, and put it on the table too. “Took a twenty from your wallet,” his eyes searched Dean’s again to see if that was okay. Usually, he wouldn’t have a second thought about it, but lately, Dean had been acting strange and had been all over his case about everything. Maybe he should have skipped the ice cream, but it had been on sale.

A little tense with worry, he went to the other side of the coffee table and dropped down to the ground, toeing his shoes off and crossing his long legs. Maybe if they got through just one night with no arguments, maybe things would go back to normal. Maybe. 

* * *

Dean found he had no response to the simple reply and shrug that Sam gave him. He found himself wanting to both wring the younger boy’s neck for going out without telling him and scaring the shit out of him to wanting to hug his brother as tightly as he possibly could and beg Sam to promise not to leave. The packed duffel he’d found in their room of course still fresh in his mind.

Maybe it was best then that his brother’s next action, leaning forward and pressing his hand against his forehead, stunned him both motionless and silent. Of course recalling the… dream… he’d had after the accident. Sam’s hands touching his face, cleaning the cuts, taking care of _him_ when it was usually the other way around, and then climbing into his lap all soft skin and slender muscles…

Dean jerked, pulling back from the younger boy’s touch like it burned him, in a delayed reaction. Snapping himself out of the memory and he was glad that he was already flushed and didn’t have to explain it. Not like he could, not like he ever _would_.

When Sam returned from the kitchen and put some food and his money down on the table in front of him Dean simply stared at it, saying nothing. He just didn’t know what to say. Sam’s silence and brooding anger over the last few days, his scalding insults about him and their family, the younger boy’s uncaring words about their mother, it was all so fresh in his mind despite how he’d tried to drown it out with alcohol last night. So was how he’d hit his brother, and the dream… Sam begging him to make it better, practically begging for his kisses, his touches, moaning and rocking in his lap, rubbing his hard dick against his stomach…

And his brother was sitting across the table from him now, completely oblivious to Dean’s turmoil and filthy thoughts. It was easier not to look at Sam, so he wouldn’t see that split lip and bruise and remember how Sam had tasted. It was easier to get up, mumbling something about a shower, as he stumbled out of their living room and down the hall to the bathroom than to be in Sam’s presence right now. Ignoring the food Sam had bought for him, not like he would be able to keep any of it down anyway, and ignoring his brother’s eyes following him. 

* * *

Watching Dean get up abruptly, barely saying a word to him since he’d entered the room, Sam felt a familiar tensing in his belly. His brother’s censure and disapproval often made him feel just like this, only right now, he had no clue what he’d done wrong. Was it taking the money? Was it the icecream. Was it just existing?

He took another bite of his burger but the edge of his hunger was gone. And so was the light in his eyes. Nothing he did lately was good enough. Nothing. And everything he said was wrong. Had he changed that much? Or was Dean just tired of him.

Dropping his food, he rocked back, thinking of the things Dean had said in the garage last night. And later, worse things. Wanting him gone. His eyes going a bit moist, but he vowed not to cry, and turned the t.v. on instead, loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

It worked for a time, but as nearly forty-five minutes passed, he got up. He practically stormed to the bathroom, knocked once, and walked inside. “Dean, you alright?” he asked, unceremoniously pulling the shower curtain partly aside and seeing him standing there under the water.

Sam practically winced at the realization Dean was fine. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked bluntly, unable to hold back the painful question. “I don’t know what I did wrong, I don’t Dean. But it had to be pretty bad cause the way you look at me...” He ran his hand through his hair, then stepped away, taking in his brother’s face one last time.

* * *

Dean didn’t waste any time getting into the shower. The cold water wasn’t all that good for his aching muscles he found out, but it worked well enough for clearing his head and also taking care of the less than desirable reactions of his body that had sprung up just from being in Sam’s presence. Before he’d nearly always felt half hard whenever his little brother was around, now with that damned dream fresh in his mind…

He wasn’t sure how long he stood underneath the icy spray, refusing to turn the temperature up even a little. He was shivering, his teeth practically aching with the cold, and Dean knew it was almost dangerous cooling down his body this quickly from the temperature it had been at before but he didn’t really care right now.

That was about when Sam knocked on the bathroom door, but Dean refused to answer. Not to his great surprise the younger boy opened the door and came in anyway but before he could yell at Sam to get the fuck out his brother was yanking aside the shower curtain and Dean could only stand there, soaking wet, shivering, and buck naked staring at the younger boy with wide eyes and his mouth slightly agape.

Did he _want_ him to leave? Don’t know what he did wrong? Like all of this was _his_ fault?!

Dean closed his mouth and his eyes turned hard, his earlier misery and fear quickly sparking over to anger. So Sam wanted him to spell out what was _wrong_? Fine.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. Everything is peachy. Not like you refused to speak to me for days. Not like you’re constantly telling me how much you hate your life, me, and Dad. Not like you told me you don’t give a damn about our mother. Not like I went into your room and saw your packed bag and thought you were _gone_. How the hell do you _want_ me to look at you?” 

* * *

Sam flinched at the attack. Dean had no idea how much he could hurt him just with his disapproval, just with a look. But when he put stuff into words, it was so much worse. Almost as bad as the physical blow he’d dealt. Didn’t he know that? Didn’t he realize it? His brother had always read him so well, didn’t he care? Was he doing this to him on purpose? Did he think that just because he was younger, he’d take everything that was meted out?

“Not like I have anyone else to tell around here. Not like you didn’t tell me you’re tired of working to feed me. Not like you didn’t tell me to get the hell out.” He shouted right back, in the same sarcastic tone, but wasn’t gonna mention mom, or how out of control Dean had been when he struck him.

His throat constricted, his eyes stung with unshed tears. “I should’a gone last night... I would have.” Staggering blindly back, he found the door handle and walked out, leaving the door wide open. Dean was right, he hated his life right now. The one thing that had made it bearable was gone. His brother.

Stalking right past the uneaten food, he went to his room and grabbed his back pack. He looked at the stack of books by his bed, then turned away from them, from everything that was home. Back in the living room, he grabbed the change Dean had left on the table. Wasn’t very much, but it was better than going without a dime on him.

Glancing one last time toward the bathroom, he walked out the door, slamming the screen door shut behind him. Stomach churning, almost aching, he walked out of the yard and headed down the lonely road.

He hadn’t gone too far, when he got to a bus stop and sat down, tears now streaming down his face. His brother, his own brother was treating him like he was shit. He didn’t take crap from his dad, he wasn’t gonna from Dean. Didn’t expect it from him.

He kept wiping his cheeks with the heel of his hand, but there was always more wetness and it bugged the heck out of him. He wasn’t a kid anymore, he shouldn’t be crying. He needed to man up. He needed to develop a thick skin, to not care what they thought, what Dean thought. Pulling his feet up onto the bench, he put his arms around his knees and rested his head. His face stuck to his knees, but the heat didn’t bother him now... he had other things to think about.

* * *

Sam hadn’t denied any of it. He hadn’t denied that he hated their father. He hadn’t denied that he hated Dean. He hadn’t denied that he didn’t give a rats ass about their mom that had been killed. He simply threw it in his face what he’d said about working to feed Sam, which he had never said he was tired of, which he’d never considered a hardship, but he’d just been angry at Sam for the boy’s childish attitude regarding that stupid camping trip when Dean had more important things to worry about. Like taking care of his brother and keeping him safe.

Then Sam went on to further flay him alive reminding him of how he’d told Sam to “get out”, something he’d said in a fit of anger because Sam had pushed all his buttons and then some, provoking him to the point where he’d actually _hit_ the younger boy. Of course he hadn’t meant it. The terror he’d felt when he thought Sam had left earlier was proof enough of that. And as though Dean wasn’t ripping himself up inside with guilt over what happened yesterday… his brother went on to confirm he had been fully ready to leave, last night…

Why hadn’t he? Did it even matter now?

It would have been far kinder if Sam had simply ripped open his chest and tore out his heart with his bare hands and stomped on it. He wished Sam had.

Then Sam did leave. He walked out of the bathroom and Dean fell back against the shower wall, the only thing holding him up by that point. When he heard the front screen door slam that wasn’t even enough anymore and he slid down the wall to collapse on the cold tile floor. Not that he really felt the cold anymore.

Every part of his being wanted to run after the younger boy. Wanted to grab him and shake sense into him. To yell at him to stop acting like a fucking idiot. To yell at him to stop acting so fucking selfish, he wasn’t the only one who had it tough, he wasn’t the only one who made sacrifices, for the job, for their family, they all did, even dad. Another part of him wanted to fall on his knees in front of the younger boy, beg Sam for forgiveness, promise his brother anything he wanted as long as he didn’t leave. Instead he simply sat there. Sam had made himself very clear. Sam hated him. Hated everything about their life. Didn’t want to stay, what could Dean possibly say then, what could he possibly promise that would change his mind?

Absolutely nothing. He couldn’t change Dad. He couldn’t change himself. He couldn’t change his life. He’d done everything in his power his whole life to take care of that boy and try to make him happy, but that wasn’t good enough anymore. It obviously never had been. So Dean merely sat there, like the useless thing he was, wondering if it was possible to die of hypothermia in a heat wave. Not that he really cared. The icy cold water raining over him rinsing his silent tears down the drain. 


	4. Chapter 4

  


Hours had to have gone by. He didn't have a watch on but he guessed maybe it was about nine or ten. It was pitch black out here, with only the porch lights from distant houses dotting the street, and the occasional streak of lights from a passing car.

Idiot. Would have been so much better to just have kept going once he was in town. No, he'd thought Dean would want food... he'd pretty much rejected that. Then he'd shown him how much he hated him.

Eyes squeezed tight, Sam tried to think when he'd first noticed that sometimes Dean acted like he couldn't stand being in the same room. He'd told himself it was his imagination, because most of the time his brother was... normal. Helping him the best he could. Playing the referee between him and his dad, and getting along except when he overdid his 'dad's soldier boy' act.

The thought of how kind and wonderful Dean could be, how he was the only one Sam could count had new tears rolling down his cheeks. Things changed. He wasn't the cute little kid that followed Dean around anymore, now he was just the 'pain in his ass.'

He didn't know quite when he realized that the hot moisture on his cheeks weren't just tears. It started to rain. Great. Curling up onto the bus stop bench, and resting his head on the back, tears mixing with the rain. Once, his big brother would have come after him, wrapped his strong arms around him and told him everything would be fine. He'd have made it all better, made the hurt go away. Now he caused a lot of it, never took anything back. Now it was like Sam was the enemy.

"Fine Dean... have a happy life." He nodded, and even if he was bitter, he meant it. He really did.

* * *

He didn't know how long he remained there. When he finally did move, he did not feel like his body was under his control. He felt like a zombie. His mind completely disconnected from all thought, his body moving only on instinct. His entire body felt numb as he pushed himself up and stumbled out of the tub and at the same time every inch of him ached. His fingers fumbled to turn off the water in the shower because they were shaking so much. His legs felt like water beneath him and he wasn't exactly sure how he remained standing at all.

He hurt everywhere. Mind, body, and soul and he just wanted the pain to go away. That's why he opened the cupboard under the sink and took out the first aid kit. Opening it and grabbing the first bottle of painkillers he found, he didn't even care which ones they were. Then he walked out of the bathroom, down the hall to the kitchen. Not bothering to cover up because he was alone. He opened up a cupboard and took down his father's bottle of jack.

With the pills and the liquor Dean made his way into the living room and sat down on the couch. The untouched food and Sam's barely eaten meal were still there and Dean kicked at the rickety coffee table violently. Tipping it over and spilling everything onto the floor but he didn't care.

He snapped open the bottle of pills and upended it into his mouth, not sure exactly how many he swallowed down with a long pull from the jack. The liquor burned and numbed his throat at the same time. Soon he knew he would be completely numb, he wouldn't be able to feel anything and that's what he wanted.

He was tired of feeling hurt, guilty, and ashamed. He was sick. He was a monster. That had to be why Sam hated him so much now. His brother must have realized the twisted thoughts going on in his head. Sensed them, if not understood them, and was disgusted. Why wouldn't he be? His own brother lusting after him… no wonder Sam wanted to leave, had left… Maybe Sam would be better off...

He was too numb to feel the tears spilling down his cheeks again. Dean dropped the empty pill bottle and stretched out on the couch, occasionally drinking from the bottle of Jack Daniels, polishing off a good quarter of the hard liquor before he knew it. His Dad was going to kill him for not looking after Sammy, for the sick twisted thoughts going through his head, for letting Sam leave…

Maybe his Dad wouldn't have to…

* * *

The pain... the self hatred... the emotions were so thick in the air, they fanned _his_ needs, igniting his desire to feed. Dean... such a lovely source of energy... so ripe for the taking, and _he_ wasn’t about to resist. Having left ‘feelers’ around his prey and able to sift through Dean’s mind and emotions, _he_ knew exactly what had the elder Winchester in knots.... his younger brother, always Sam. Fool... he’d let Sam go. But _he_ wouldn’t allow that, not when Sam was the source of these intense emotions.

Dropping down next to the couch and sitting on the floor, he was the spitting image of young Sam Winchester. Almond shaped hazel eyes set at an angle, sharp features and a jaw that would in the future become more prominent. A slender, lanky build, with well-defined muscles. Nothing could distinguish him from the real thing. Not his voice, not his mannerisms, and not his taste or scent. For all intents and purposes, he _was_ Sam.

He sat shirtless, but in shorts, legs crossed and watching Dean for a long moment, watching the wet tears slide down this cheeks, noticing the whiteness of the knuckles gripping the bottle as if holding on for dear life. The scent of despair was intoxicating.

Sam put his palm low on Dean’s bare belly, his long pinky almost touching Dean’s flaccid penis. “Don’t cry Dean, please don’t.” He moved his hand slightly, leaning in so his face hovered over Dean’s chest and he was looking into his brother’s eyes. “Not over me.”

He licked his lips and looked down, too shy to look in Dean’s eyes “I could make you feel better, like you did for me. Drive everything... the pain... the sadness... all of it out of your mind, if you want me to.” His lips curved into a small smile, and a slight flush crawled up his cheeks. He hesitated then looked up. “I could do it better than _that_ “ his gaze shifted to the bottle and back. “I want to taste it on your tongue.”

* * *

The touch of the warm hand against the bare skin of his stomach made Dean flinch slightly in surprise.

What the…

Somehow he managed to drag his eyes open despite the fact that they felt like they had been glued shut with crazy glue. Maybe they had been? He wasn’t sure… He was so fucking tired… That could have be because of the pills or the liquor, he wasn’t sure which at this point. Most likely it was the mixing of both in his gut making everything thick and fuzzy in his head.

It wasn’t exactly a pleasant feeling but at least the pain in his head from the concussion was gone. Hmmm… maybe they should prescribe this remedy in the hospital. He’d have to remember it for the future. Too bad he couldn’t remember what he had taken or even how much, oh well, it didn’t matter…

Dean blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. Everything swam together and when he turned his head the room itself felt like it was tilting. Whoa… he hoped he didn’t throw up. He hated throwing up. His brother’s concerned face finally swam into view and Dean blinked a little stupidly at the younger boy.

Sammy? No… Sammy was gone. Sammy had left. Sammy hated him… Crying… was he crying? Lifted one hand to his face, found he had a difficult time finding it, but he finally did and his fingers definitely came away from his cheeks wet. Huh… he supposed he was crying. Because his brother was gone, had left, because Sam hated him…

Dean’s breath hitched a little in his throat as he turned his eyes back to the younger boy. His wet fingers slowly reaching out to run across Sam’s cheek. Warm… soft… Sam was here. He hadn’t left? He thought Sam had left, was gone forever, but Sam was back. Dean felt the cold pain in his heart melt away just a little. Damn, he hadn’t even noticed it was still there, it hadn’t been warmed in the least by the burning liquor he drank, but now it had eased that tiny bit. Warmed by Sam’s presence…

“Sammy…” He whispered his brother’s name, slurring every letter, but he didn’t care as he cupped the younger boy’s cheek in his palm. Yes, he wanted the pain gone, he wanted the sadness gone, he wanted the longing gone… he wanted Sam. “I want…”

* * *

“Me. You want me.” Smiling, Sam turned his face into Dean’s palm, hiding briefly from him. Breathing into his brother’s calloused palm, he stuck his wet tongue out and swept it up and down, tasting the salty remains of his tears, and hearing the sharp intake of Dean’s breath.

When he pulled back, he took in Dean’s flushed face and the brightness of the eyes focused on him... only him. Bringing his mouth messily down over Dean’s, he licked his thick full lips, tracing their outline and pulling back.

Again, he took a minute to collect himself, feeling Dean’s hot breaths fanning over his own mouth and cheek. He reveled in the Dean’s tangible need festering to the surface, resisted under the guise of shyness, and when he couldn’t take it any longer, he bought his mouth down again, this time with a groan as he opened his mouth for his brother, begging him, want him to plunder and take what he needed.

As they kissed, Sam slowly moved his hand in circles, each time a little lower, until his palm was sliding down and up Dean’s shaft. Every so often, he would stop, as if to forget, then start up again. With each pass of his hand, his brother’s satin-soft skin stretched tauter over his hardening cock, filling Sam with a sensation of power. More, he wanted more... of Dean needing, wanting, craving... he kissed him harder, worked harder to make Dean forget everything... everything but this... 

* * *

Yes. He wanted Sam. He wanted Sam so much it hurt. It hurt when his brother was near him. It hurt even worse when Sam was gone. But Sam was back now… his brother was back, and he couldn’t stop from gasping sharply when the younger boy nuzzled into his palm, licking at it and Dean felt a flush travel along the entire length of his body, pooling in his groin.

“Sammy…” Dean breathed again, almost in awe, and then Sam’s soft lips were on his and he forgot how to think. All that mattered was the feel of those soft lips caressing his own, that slick wet, hot tongue licking and Dean couldn’t contain the groan of desire that escaped his throat. Parting his lips eagerly, however his brother pulled back before he could and Dean felt that familiar cold panic settle in his gut.

He’d pushed too fast, Sam didn’t really want this, he’d disgusted the younger boy with his sick desires. But Sam didn’t run away from him in disgust, in fact, the younger boy was still so close he could feel his soft panting breaths against his face and it made Dean’s lips feel tight and tingle in anticipation. His fingers itching to reach out and pull Sam back down to him but he felt frozen in place by that ever present fear when he was around Sam lately.

_Don’t leave, please don’t leave, please don’t hate me…_ He begged silently, looking up into brother’s eyes. And then Sam kissed him again and the fragile threads holding him back all snapped at once. The bottle of booze long forgotten fell to the floor and his hands found their way into Sam’s soft hair, tangling in it as he held Sam close and his own tongue slipped between his brother’s parted lips.

He savored the delicious taste of his little brother as he explored every inch of that hot wet mouth. Gasping against his brother’s soft lips when he felt the younger boy’s hand sliding lower on his stomach. Touching him… oh god… oh fuck… caressing his cock… Tracing up and down his length, and he was so hard so fast it hurt. He moaned helplessly into the younger boy’s mouth.

Sam… Sammy… Sam…

He whined every time his brother’s almost tentative touches along his flesh stopped for even a moment, his hips bucking up against his will, seeking more. He was so hard already he was leaking, precome pooling against his belly. His hands slid through Sam’s soft hair, down his neck, petting along his bare back, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more, and when he could no longer stand the ache he grasped Sam and pulled the younger boy up onto the couch with him. Letting Sam straddle his hips and rubbing his hard dick against his brother’s ass, leaving a damp trail on the younger boy’s shorts.

Dean groaned loudly, obscenely, needy, and the sound of it made him freeze, looking up at his brother almost fearfully. Had he gone too far too fast?

* * *

  
With each subtle motion of his ass, Sam urged Dean to grind harder against him, worked him up until was out of control. So good, so fucking good... _He_ fed on Dean’s need, enflaming it, lusting after Dean’s lust...

Dean’s loud groan had him opening his eyes. The fear in Dean’s eyes was absolutely delicious. Passively staring right back at his brother, he tortured him for a spell... let him wonder.

Then he searched for Dean’s hand, and pulled it up his thigh, placing it over his own cock straining against his shorts. “Me too,” he said, pressing Dean’s hand down, and then started to move his ass over Dean’s cock again. He started slow and easy, then threw all caution to the winds and started to ride Dean hard.

He knew the material of his shorts had to be chafing, hurting... but he didn’t give Dean a chance to complain. Right now, Dean would take him any way he could get him... take as little or as much as he gave, he was in the rider’s seat... literally.

Still fucking against Dean, he dropped down over him, kissing him hard... letting their tongues tangle, tasting Dean’s darkest desires even as he made them come true.

He dragged his mouth down Dean’s throat, sucking on him lightly, then his chest. He licked and kissed, grazing his teeth along the ridges of Dean’s muscles, and moving his mouth lower. Practically doubled over, he couldn’t bring his mouth any lower down Dean’s belly without scooting his body down too.

He looked up. “I ... I saw a site on the net where...” he licked his lips, looked like he was in pain as he continued. “Do you want me to try to suck you off, Dean?” His eyes held both promise and fear.

* * *

Dean barely dared to breathe, though he couldn’t stop his heart from hammering so hard against his ribs it felt like it was trying to break out of him. Shit. He was such a fucking idiot. He was a sick fucking pervert. How could he have let himself touch his brother this way, god damn it? Even if Sam had seemed to… want it…

He tried to brace himself for his brother’s angry words. For Sam to call him sick and evil and pull away from him like he had the plague. He waited, trying to brace himself for all of Sam’s angry words and maybe even his brother’s angry fists. Sam hitting him like Dean had hit the younger boy before in anger. He wouldn’t have stopped Sam, he wouldn’t have raised a fucking hand to defend himself from his brother’s wrath. Even if Sam decided to plunge a knife into his gut he wouldn’t have stopped the younger boy. He deserved it and more after all…

All of this went through his mind in the few seconds Sam just sat there and looked at him, and he couldn’t stop the slight flinch and tensing as he prepared for his brother to lash out against him even if he wouldn’t fight him. Expecting violence he was surprised when Sam merely took his hand and… oh god… feeling his little brother’s hard cock in his shorts, the heat of him burning through his palm practically like a brand, made Dean groan almost in pain.

Sam’s hand pressing down on his, his brother’s ass rubbing against his cock, and Dean needed no further encouragement. Squeezing the younger boy’s dick through his jeans, and groaning as he rubbed up against Sam harder and harder. The movement of his hips practically lifting the younger boy up from the couch, the friction almost more pain than pleasure but he couldn’t stop. The idea of coming against his brother’s ass, his spunk soaking the material of his shorts, made Dean practically whimper and it was a wonder he didn’t blow right then and there.

“Sam… Sammy…” Dean whimpered until Sam was kissing him again, and he practically fucked the younger boy’s mouth with his tongue. His other hand sliding through Sam’s hair, down the younger boy’s back, slipping underneath his brother’s shorts to squeeze his ass while Sam’s lips did sweet evil things to his neck and chest.

Oh god, this had to be a dream, it was too perfect…

Sam looking up at him, so sweet and innocent, eager and fearful at the same time when his brother offered to give him a blow job nearly stopped Dean’s heart. Yes! Oh god, yes! He was so hard he hurt. It probably wouldn’t take much more than the touch of those soft sweet lips to the head of his cock to make him come all over his baby brother’s face. He was a little surprised he hadn’t come already. He wanted to beg for it, but the uncertainty in the younger boy’s eyes stopped him.

“You… you don’t have to…” Dean finally managed, unable to say yes or no. 

* * *

He knew how much it took for Dean to let him off the hook. How much he needed for his mouth to be wrapped around his painfully throbbing dick, now that he’d put the image in his mind. Still a hero ... always trying to play the hero, even against something as powerful as lust.

Sam dropped down and sucked Dean’s lower lip into his mouth, playing with it with his tongue, then pulling off. “I want to try.” Shy smile in place, he started moving down Dean’s body, sucking hard on one flat male nipple, raking his sides with his fingers as he moved lower.

It was tight on the couch, but he made it work, sitting on his knees between Dean’s legs. He started to fondle Dean’s cock, measuring its length, feeling it’s weight and girth. “I dreamed that you wanted to fuck my mouth, Dean. I dreamed we were watching t.v. and I had my head in your lap and every time I moved... you wanted... did that ever happen?”

Leaving the question to hang between them, Sam licked Dean’s tip, curling his tongue around the bead of precum, tasting it... the smiling, and taking Dean’s blunt crown in his mouth and sucking lightly.

* * *

Oh god, he was going to go into cardiac arrest any second, Dean was certain of it.

In a million years he never would have expected Sam’s response. He hadn’t expected his brother to kiss him breathless, sucking on his lips in a way that made Dean whimper pathetically against the younger boy’s mouth. He certainly hadn’t been expecting Sam to reply that he wanted to _try_ , making Dean’s dick throb and leak even more against the younger boy’s shorts. Fuck, he could feel how soaked Sam already was…

Then Sam was kissing his way down his chest once more, licking and playing with his nipples and Dean’s hands shook as they came to rest on his brother’s shoulders. He ran his hands through the younger boy’s hair, down his neck and over his shoulders in back in an almost petting, soothing, motion though Sam hardly needed any calming. He wasn’t the one who was shaking and feeling like he was going to come apart at the seams any minute.

“Sammy… oh god…” Dean panted feeling his brother’s fingers wrap around him, playing with his dick, stroking him slowly like he was trying to memorize the feel of him. Then Sam’s whispered question made him close his eyes and moan in shame, because it was true. It was probably the first time he realized just how sick and fucked up he was. Back when Dean still allowed his little brother to “cuddle” with him, before he started pushing Sam away and calling him a girl for trying to get close to him.

They’d been home alone, Dad off on a hunting trip of course, and it was summer so they didn’t have to worry about school. They were staying up late watching TV, eating popcorn, candy and he’d even let Sam take a few drinks off his beers. Which was probably the reason why Sam had ended up dozing off in his lap halfway through the movie they’d been watching. Sam hadn’t been resting still though, and every time he’d moved Dean’s dick had gotten just a little bit harder. He was at full mast before his upstairs brain even caught up with what was happening, how he was reacting, and…

“Yes…” Dean couldn’t help but admit. His voice small and trembling a little, his eyes begging for forgiveness as he looked down at his brother now. Even as Sam’s tongue tasted him, making Dean gasp in both surprise and pleasure. The moan pulled out of him when his brother wrapped his lips around the head of his dick and sucked almost pained, his fingers tangling in the younger boy’s hair, pulling Sam closer, begging for more before he could stop himself. Not that he wanted to stop. He couldn’t. 

* * *

The mixture of guilt and acute need emanating in waves from Dean was exhilarating. Wanting... desiring more, he pushed his mouth down, taking more of Dean, but not all of him. The tentative touches, the trembling fingers in his hair and on his shoulder, the strangled moans, so sweet... so perfect...

Sam played with Dean's cock a little longer, feeling the changes in Dean as the elder Winchester grew more desperate and just a little bolder with his pleas, and with the pressure he applied on him, dragging him closer. He knew Dean was thinking about that one night when Sam had driven him crazy in his innocent ways, knew Dean had been so hard he'd had to jack off not once, but three times that night... each time coming to the mental vision of Sam moving his mouth over his cock, after teasing him while they watched the movie. Only when visions of past lust and his current lust brought him close to tears, did Sam relent and open his mouth wider.

Sam stopped sucking as he adjusted to Dean's thick length bottoming out at his throat. A few heartbeats and groans later, he started to move his mouth up and down Dean's shaft, sucking, licking, moving faster. His hand was closed around Dean's base, his wrist moving in half circles while his thumb casually... almost accidentally put pressure on his balls. He started to make some sounds of his own, breathing harder, mmm'ing around Dean's dick, his body readjusting so he was moving his hips and rubbing his own cock slightly against Dean's leg.

He felt Dean's body tense... like he was seizing up. Felt the skin around his balls pull tight... heard the change in his voice. _Good... come... come hard big brother... come hard... like that night you jacked off so many times._  


* * *

He was lost. Completely and totally lost. He couldn’t think beyond the pleasure burning through his veins like liquid fire. Incinerating all his good intentions, all his doubts, and leaving only pure need. Sam’s slick wet tongue stroking his shaft, Sam’s hot mouth tight around his throbbing length, taking him in, it was so dirty and so perfect. Sam’s obvious inexperience only making him even harder, hotter, knowing he was the first. He couldn’t have looked away from the sight of his little brother’s innocent mouth going down on his cock unless his eyes were burned out of their sockets. He couldn’t have stopped himself from crying out, his hips bucking up as he cried out loudly when his little brother took him all the way in.

“Sam! Oh god… Sammy… yes, please… oh fuck…” Dean moaned helplessly, guiding Sam up and down his dick, his fingers still tightly in his little brother’s hair, though his other hand gently pet the younger boy. Running along the back of his neck and shoulders, not sure if he was trying to calm Sam or himself. He thrust between those perfect sweet lips, moaning even louder at Sam’s touches around the base of his cock, the soft strokes to his balls. Sam’s soft moans around him driving his need even higher if it was possible. Oh god he was so fucked, he was so damned fucked…

“Sammy!” He shouted, the feeling of his brother’s own hard cock rubbing against his bare leg the final push to send him completely over the edge. His entire body tensing as though he’d been hit by an electric shock as he came so hard he saw stars. His hips bucking with pulse of his cock, his hot seed spilling from his dick into his little brother’s mouth, and Dean knew he was going to hell for this for sure but he didn’t give a damn.

* * *

Sam's hands roamed over Dean's bare belly as he sucked him dry, swallowing everything he gave him and knowing Dean was watching his every movement, fascinated. _He_ absorbed wave after wave of intense emotions and pleasure, skittering to the edge just like Dean. His human form ached and throbbed, his need as real as Dean's had been. It wouldn't end here, couldn't.

He crawled up Dean's body, legs slightly spread, his head jerking back as he positioned his cock over Dean's hip bone and groaned. Needing this, needing it for real, he started to hump Dean's hip, hard and fast, eyes screwed tightly closed as he marched single-mindedly towards release. "Dean... oh God... feels so good... burn... oh God, Dean, help me... help..." he pleaded, fucking harer, moving erratically, like he didn't know exactly what he needed, desperate, needy... dying for his brother's touch.

Sounds started breaking from him. He didn't hide them... felt them already start to affect Dean. He knew this scene would play over and over in Dean's mind... would have the young man in knots for days to come, would have him beating off just for his peace of mind... to prevent himself from going crazy due to the needs of his body.

"Dean!" he cried out, back arching, dick dragging one last time over his brother's hip, before he collapsed over him. He felt Dean's hand cove over his back, holding him tight. Lifting his face, he kissed Dean, then moved his mouth over Dean's ear. "I love you. If you love me, really love me back, you won't let me go. You won't let me leave... won't make me cry again."

He hoped each of his words would give Dean fresh wounds, new guilt, new fears, new reasons to manage emotions. "I'm at the bus stop. I'm afraid of being alone, or never seeing you. But you told me to leave... I'm doing what you asked me, what you wanted. Not much time left. Bus comes in fifteen... take me back with you."

He slid off Dean, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Bring me back, Dean. The days will be his and yours, and the nights... yours and mine." He gave a sexy but tremulous smile, "In your dreams... I'll be there, if you save him from himself."

* * *

Dean mewled with each suck Sam gave to his cock, his mind and body on complete overload with pleasure. He simply couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching Sam, his baby brother, licking up his release, savoring it like it was the most delicious treat in the world… He could get hard and come again just from that knowledge alone. Oh god, he was such a fucking pervert, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not now. Not after feeling this. What he’d dreamed of and denied wanting for so long…

When those perfect soft lips finally released him Dean couldn’t help but whimper in protest even though he was so sensitive by that point the pleasure was approaching the pain threshold. But then Sam was climbing up his body, rubbing his dick against him, moaning and crying out his name, pleading with him and Dean felt hot all over. Like he was on the brink of coming again just watching Sam, just feeling him.

His hands went to the younger boy’s slender hips, guiding Sam though his brother needed no guidance. His moans echoing his brother’s. So beautiful. So hot. So perfect. Sam. His brother, wanting him, needing him, just as much as Dean needed Sam. It was wrong and impossible and so damned perfect Dean felt close to tears.

Then Sammy was screaming his name as his little brother came against him and Dean felt as though all the air had been knocked out of him. He was still gasping for breath when the younger boy collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his arms tightly around his trembling brother, petting him slowly, lovingly, giving the comfort he had denied the younger boy for so long for fear of what Sam would see inside of him. Then Sam’s words made the air freeze in his lungs.

Of course he loved Sam, he’d never stopped loving his brother, never, he’d thought Sam hated him… but Sam had come back… no… Sam was gone… but his brother was here in his arms now… wasn’t he? Sam… at the bus stop… alone… No, this wasn’t real. It wasn’t… just a fucked up fantasy, just a dream… of course it was, how could he have believed anything different? But he had, for those few moments, and now heartbroken didn’t even begin to cover what Dean was feeling inside. It felt like his insides were being shredded. Even worse as he looked up into his brother’s tear filled eyes.

“Don’t go, please…” Dean begged, but the words were barely out of his mouth, between one blink and the next Sam was gone. He’d never been here. He’d been dreaming but… it felt so real… the pills, the liquor, the concussion, Dean didn’t know which had caused it but it had felt so fucking real. Sam’s lips around his cock, Sam’s warm flesh beneath his hands, hell, even his lips still felt bruised from the younger boy’s kisses.

Dean slowly pushed himself up from the couch, almost falling off of it when his head started spinning, his vision swimming in and out of focus. Fuck… he felt like he’d been hit over the head by a two by four. But Sam’s words… from the dream… echoed in his head and he forced himself onto his feet even though he had to catch the wall to keep from falling as he stumbled.

What the fuck was wrong with him? How could he have let Sam go? Even if Sam did… hate him… he couldn’t let Sam go. He wouldn’t. He’d make it better. He’d make it right. Somehow he’d make it right for Sam or he’d die trying.

Dean managed to yank on some jeans and a t-shirt without killing himself, not even bothering with shoes he ignored how fucking unsteady he felt and ran out of the house and down the road as fast as he could. The bus stop. It wasn’t too far. What if Sam wasn’t there? It was only a fucking dream… he had to be there, please god, let him be there.

He could barely see it was so fucking dark, and he barely realized it was raining until he’d already been soaked through to the skin. But when he finally got close enough to the bus stop to see the hunched figure curled up on the bench his heart both leapt with joy and felt like it was being ripped in two with sorrow.

“Sammy!”

Dean didn’t have any words prepared, he had no idea what to say, he didn’t even know if Sam would have listened so he didn’t even bother with words. Between one second and the next he’d pulled Sam up into his arms, holding the younger boy as tightly to him as he possibly could. It took him a few moments to realize he actually _was_ speaking. A ramble of words that he couldn’t seem to stop.

“I’m sorry. Oh god, I’m sorry Sam. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave. I love you, I love you so fucking much…” 

* * *

Eventually, even in the downpour, Sam had fallen into an exhausted sleep. His dreams had been disjointed and confused. One minute his brother was yelling at him to get the hell away, the next they were having dinner and Dean was passing him his favorite foods, giving his share over. The it was screaming and shouting again... his dad... his Dean... and he didn’t know where to run, where to hide. Once he’d have hidden behind Dean, now he was running from him. It was wrong, all wrong. When... when had his brother let go of him, when had he cut him loose? When did he stop needing him? When did he start resenting him?

He was crying again, this time in his sleep, until he felt strong arms pull him up and envelope him in a tight embrace. Another dream... it had to be, because Dean never hugged him anymore... he barely touched him. Only girls hugged... that’s what he said.

Yet it smelled so much like Dean. Felt so much like him. It was too real. Sam opened his eyes just as Dean said all the things that Dean would <I>never</I>, not in a hundred years tell him. His throat welled up, aching, as he pulled sightly back, wondering for an instance if this was some shape-shifter having its fun.

No, it was Dean. It was his brother. Sam hugged him back, tight, not caring that tears were coursing down his cheeks right along with the rain. “I don’t want to leave you Dean. But I don’t want to hold you back, either.” He swallowed, echoed the words that seemed to be coming unusually easily from Dean. “I love you too. You know that.” He put his face down on his brother’s shoulder, rocking slightly, and mumbling a home truth near his ear... thought he was afraid to look in Dean’s eyes. “Sometimes... sometimes you look at me like you hate me. Like I make your skin crawl, and that scares me.” That was it, that was the bottom line. He didn’t care that Dean had popped him. They fought often enough. And maybe it had been out of line, and a first... but Sam could deal with it. It was the silent looks of revulsion, and the admission that he felt like Sam was a weight on his shoulders that got to Sam, and nothing else.

* * *

When Sam finally spoke Dean honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or sob at the whole fucked up situation. Hearing Sam admit that he didn’t want to leave him filled him with joy while at the same time his brother admitting he didn’t want to “hold him back” made him want to cry. Where the fuck had Sam ever got the idea that he was “holding him back?” Hearing Sam say he loved him had his eyes burning with tears that were thankfully immediately washed away by the rain pouring around them, because no he _hadn’t_ known that. Not after their last exchange, he hadn’t. It was why he’d let Sam go in the first place…

If possible his heart shattered into even smaller pieces, falling somewhere down to the center of the earth when Sam talked about… the way he looked at Sam. How the hell could Sam have picked up on the way Dean tried _not_ to look at Sam, and had never noticed how Dean sometimes couldn’t look away from him?

For a split terrifying second he almost told Sam the truth, why Dean didn’t look at him anymore, why Dean tried not to touch him anymore, not even for an innocent hug before now. But then Dean “remembered” that what had… happened… back at the house had only been a dream. Just another one of his fucked up fantasies. Sam hadn’t really had his mouth around his dick less than an hour ago. His little brother would probably be horrified to find out just half the things that Dean wanted to do to him, not to mention disgusted, and then his brother really _would_ hate him.

“Sammy, it’s not you. I swear, I never meant for you to think that. You don’t hold me back. I’m here because I want to be. I want to be with you and dad. I don’t want anything else, I never have. I thought…” Dean gave a bitter laugh. “I thought you hated me… you hate everything else about our life and when you didn’t deny it…”

Dean took a shuddering breath and ran his fingers gently through his little brother’s soft wet hair, practically cradling the younger boy against him.

“Come home with me. I’ll make it better, I swear. Somehow I’ll make it better.”

* * *

  
_You don't hold me back. I'm here because I want to be. I want to be with you..._ The words were reassuring and familiar. They matched his knowledge, his vision of his brother, before a chasm had opened between them and slowly widened. Once, he hadn't doubted. If anything, he'd thought Dean loved him too much. It had worried him... the thought of how it might affect Dean once he told him about his college plans.

He hugged Dean tighter, like he used to whenever he needed comfort. Dean thought he hated him? Hated? Since when? Why? Okay, they'd fought... and he wasn't one to hold back his words, but sometimes that was all he had to fight with. Sometimes he hurt so bad inside, felt so oppressed by their life, he had to lash out. Had he lashed out too much at Dean? Blamed him for things his brother couldn't change?

His shoulder shook as he started to sob. "I don't hate you Dean, I could _never_ hate you, no matter what. There is nothing you could do to make me hate you." He nodded, still burying his face in Dean's neck, rubbing his cheek against the rough wet material of his jacket. "I just... I get angry, and I can't help it. It's not your fault. You make things better, not worse." That was the truth too, plain and simple.

He started to relax as Dean ran his fingers through his hair and promised to make things better if he came home. "I'll make it better to, Dean. I'll be better, help you," he promised, reluctantly pulling away from his brother. He'd missed this... missed touching Dean, hugging him. It had felt weird... like a bucket of ice water being thrown in his face, when Dean had started to push him away and tell him not to be a girl every time he tried to hug. Yeah Sam was more in touch with his feelings, and he liked to touch, but the way Dean had started to shove him away had felt strange. Maybe Sam had imagined it. Or maybe Dean was trying to man him up in his own way. He should have known.

Getting up, Sam waited for Dean to do the same. His eyes widened as Dean appeared to be shaky and unstable. Christ, he'd forgotten how unwell and weak his brother was since the accident. Immediately putting his shoulder under his brother's arm, he helped him walk. "You know you shouldn't even be out here in the rain."

He stole a glance at his brother, and smiled. "Guess this is what you get for having a pain in the ass younger brother. You sure you want this?" As they half stumbled and headed for home, he teased. "You could trade me in for a nice sister... you know, she might not argue as much. Or how about a pet? Just don't call it Sammy, animals hate that as much as kids over thirteen."

* * *

This is what Dean needed, more than anything else in the world. Sam needing him, trusting him, loving him, as a brother. He couldn’t believe he’d almost lost it. Almost lost Sam. All because of a stupid argument. All because of he’d gotten so caught up in trying to deny and hide his sick desires, wanting what he could never have, he’d forgotten what he _did_ have. He’d pushed Sam away to the point that his brother doubted his love and he’d almost run away forever…

Never again. Yes, Dean it would be hard for him, it had been hard since he realized his feelings for his brother and it certainly wouldn’t be any easier having Sam so close, wanting him in ways he shouldn’t, but Dean swore he’d never let it drive a wedge between them again. He’d never let Sam doubt how much the younger boy meant to him even as he hid from him the full extent of his love for his brother. Because despite the younger boy’s reassurances that Dean could never do anything that would make Sam hate him, Dean knew that wasn’t true. If Sam knew what he wanted to do to him, what he wanted Sam to do to him…

Dean’s mind flashed over to the vivid dream he’d had of Sam sucking on his cock and he felt a little ill at the flash of arousal he felt. It was probably a good thing then that Sam started to pull out of his arms, despite how reluctant he was to let the younger boy go. He pushed himself up from the bench after his brother, swaying a little unsteadily reminding him of the pills and the liquor he consumed and the concussion he had and… yeah… he felt like shit.

Dean let Sam help support him, glad for the younger boy’s aid. Though he normally would have insisted on walking by himself he didn’t for more than one reason. Only the second reason being because he really needed it, even if he didn’t he still wouldn’t have pushed Sam away, since constantly pushing Sam away was one of the reasons they were at this point now.

In spite of everything though, Dean couldn’t help but laugh softly at his brother’s words.

“Oh, I don’t know. We could always put pigtails in your hair and I could start calling you Samantha.” Dean teased and he ran his fingers once more through his brother’s hair making it stick up at odd angles, before he tightened his arm around the younger boy, tucking him even closer against his side. He answered his brother’s first question a little more seriously. “Yes, I’m sure.”

* * *

Dean could not have _any_ idea how good it felt to have him touch him again. So good, so different from all the shoves and the dirty looks that Sam even allowed him to do stupid things with his hair, and call him a girl. He’d let him get away with anything, because right now, with his brother’s arm tight around him, it finally felt like _home_ again.

“Alright then,” he smiled, his even white teeth peeking out as he looked down and started to walk faster. They both needed to get outta the rain.

As soon as they walked inside, he started to peel Dean’s sopping jacket off. “You should probably get to bed... unless you wanna watch some t.v.?” He knew it was close to morning, and that Dean looked like he was about to collapse. He also knew the right thing would be for Dean to sleep, but it was hard to let him go when things were just getting right between them.

He’d dropped his jacket on the kitchen floor and now pulled tee shirt off, the reached for Dean’s. “Get your jeans off,” he said, peeling the sticky wet material up and off Dean’s body. 

* * *

He and Sam were unsurprisingly completely drenched by the time they got back home, but at least the rain was warm and there was little chance either of them would get sick from being out in it. Sam’s sneakers and his own bare feet tracked in mud and they both dripped puddles all over the kitchen floor that Dean was in absolutely no mood to mop up. Not to mention the mess in the living room with the tipped over coffee table and spilled food all over the floor he’d have to clean up too, but for now he honestly didn’t care about that. Because even as crappy as he felt physically he felt happier than he’d been in a long time. Just because he had made Sam smile…

Dean was a little taken aback however when Sam started to strip off his jacket and a flutter of nervousness started low in his belly in spite of himself. It was completely innocent of course, and practical. Better they undress in the kitchen since the floor was already wet and muddy rather than tracking it all over the house and have to clean up more.

However Dean couldn’t deny the warm flush that washed over him when the younger boy stripped off his own shirt and for a moment all Dean could do was stare at his brother’s bare damp skin. Standing their frozen as Sam reached to help him strip him of his own, telling him to take off his pants…

Dean shook himself, mentally going over in his brain every disgusting zombie like smelly creature they’d ever hunted to distract himself from his little brother’s body. His eyes darting down but he didn’t shove Sam away when the younger boy helped him get his shirt off over his head. However there was no way in hell he was going to let his brother help him get his pants off. It was all he could do not to sprout wood already.

“TV would be great, dude, but I gotta clean up and go to bed. Gotta go to work tomorrow.” Dean said with genuine regret. As much as being near Sam tied him up in knots, after everything he really didn’t want to let Sam out of his sight even for things as “necessary” as sleep. 

* * *

“Okay,” Sam said softly, letting Dean pull away. He unzipped and bent over to get his jeans off, cursing as the thick material stuck to his legs and had to be worked off. He would have offered to help Dean take his off, but his brother started to head to the livingroom. "Dean, I'll clean up, just go... or you won't be able to get up," he said, stepping out of his clothes. He looked up and met Dean's gaze and pointedly looked toward their dad's room. A split second later, his brother was heading that way. “See you in the morning... call me if you need something,” Sam told him.

The instant Dean Winchester staggered into the room, _he_ came to Dean in Sam’s form. This time, he plastered himself to Dean’s bare back, arms around his waist and undoing his jeans, cock ... a hard knot... pressing against Dean’s ass as he walked him toward the bed.

“I missed you. Want to help you. Want to let you look at me as much as you like,” he said, cupping Dean over his partially opened pants, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be able to touch me, to look at me, without having to hide it. Without feeling ashamed? You’d like to tell me you like when I do this...” he was breathing hard, rubbing against Dean’s ass, “... when I show you how hard you make me.”

He pushed and they were the few steps to the bed. Squeezing Dean, he started to whimper. “Dean, I don’t know what to do... make me feel good,” he pleaded, trying to ride against him as he moved his hand inside Dean’s shorts and curled his fingers around his shaft. “So hard... it hurt... please Dean... need... need something... something...”

* * *

It was a losing battle, much to his shame, and he quickly turned away, refusing to watch his brother unzip and peal himself out of his wet jeans. Feeling sick with himself and his lack of control, he started towards the living room to clean up the mess in there. He’d mop up the kitchen floor afterwards. Hopefully by the time he was done Sam would have already gone to bed. Temptation gone…

He stopped at Sam’s offer however, and big mistake, turned around to look at the younger boy. The thin material of his brother’s boxers were clinging to his Sam’s skin and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination and Dean knew one way or another he needed to get out of the room. Rather than argue and embarrass himself or worse he simply headed for Dad’s room instead.

Dean barely got the door closed when he felt the arms wrapped around him all of a sudden, felt the hands undoing his jeans, and felt the hard press of an erection against his ass as he was pushed towards the bed. His own cock immediately jumped to attention even as his brain began waving red flags.

This wasn’t fucking normal, even for him. He wasn’t asleep this time, god damn it, this wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t Sam plastered against his back, it wasn’t his little brother’s voice whispering hot dirty things into his ear, promising everything Dean had ever wanted. Either Dean was going completely insane, either he was hallucinating from some kind of brain injury, or it was… something else…

But even as he realized this it was like his brain was filling with a fog. He couldn’t think beyond the lust wrapping around him like a heavy blanket. He grew impossibly hard in the hand that stroked him, groaning in pleasure when Sam reached into his shorts and squeezed his dick. Yes, he wanted it. Wanted everything Sam offered and more. He needed it…

Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist and pulled his hand away even though he whimpered in almost pain from the loss, and turned around in the younger boy’s arms. Grabbing his brother he yanked Sam up hard against him, his mouth coming down on Sam’s almost bruising. Not caring about the consequences. 

* * *

The momentary indecision that warred within Dean was delicious, absolutely delicious and almost had _him_ coming. One more squeeze of Dean’s hardening cock, and he knew he had him.

Sam didn’t pull away from the brutal kiss, instead winding his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing himself even closer. “Mmm,” he kissed back, tangling his tongue with his brother’s, letting him suck on his tongue... like it was his dick. He knew those thoughts and even more obscene ones were tumbling through Dean’s mind, and it didn’t take much to encourage them.

He felt Dean’s hand slide down his bare back and slip under his shorts, cupping his ass. Mewling against Dean’s lips, he arched into him. He started to thrust against Dean, half climbing him until Dean lifted him slightly and his cock was aligned over Dean’s. He started to move mindlessly against him, bowing back to get maximum friction.

Pleading sounds broke from the back of his throat. As he writhed and begged for more, he could feel Dean’s lust rising... “Touch me, touch me Dean. I need you,” he moaned, kissing him again, this time his tongue slipping into Dean’s hot, wet mouth, engaging him, trapping him in a web of lust and desire so strong, he was sure the world could come to an end right now, but his lover would not notice. “Need something... need more, please dean... take your clothes off... bed... anhhhh...”

* * *

Dean cupped the back of his brother’s head with one hand, his fingers winding themselves tightly in the younger boy’s hair, holding him place as he ravished Sam’s mouth with near abandonment. Not that Sam was trying to pull away or stop him. In fact, the younger boy kissed him back with just as much passion and he was instantly so hard he hurt.

He groaned as he sucked Sam’s tongue into his mouth slid his hands possessively down the younger boy’s body to caress his buttocks. Slipping underneath his brother’s underwear to caress and squeeze the luscious firm globes, bucking against the younger boy when Sam rubbed against him. Finally lifting Sam up a little so that his and his brother’s cocks slid together. The friction delicious even through the layers of cloth they still wore.

He loved the sounds of pleasure and need spilling from his brother’s throat. They drove him forward, needing more, trailing his lips and tongue down the side of the younger boy’s neck, biting and sucking as Sam mewled in his arms, begging for more.

Dean didn’t hesitate giving his brother exactly what he wanted. Turning them both around lifted Sam up. Encouraging the younger boy to wrap his legs around his waist for support and Dean carried him the final few steps over to the bed. Not putting Sam down Dean simply climbed onto the bed with him, laying his brother back and following him down. Thrusting and rubbing his cock between Sam’s legs as he brought his mouth down hard onto his brother’s again.

He kissed Sam till the need for air forced him to pull back and he grasped Sam’s underwear and practically ripped it down his legs impatiently. Then went to work getting his own wet jeans and shorts off as quickly as he could. 

* * *

“God... Dean... good... don’t stop,” Sam begged, finally getting the friction he wanted with Dean on top of him. So good, it was so damned good, the web of lust binding them together as they mindlessly writhed against each other.

Dean’s mouth descended in a hungry kiss and Sam parted his lips for his brother. He could do this forever... kiss and rub against him, slowly drive him crazy out of his mind until Dean gave everything over... his body, his soul, his life... all to satisfy the burning need _It_ enflamed in the form of his younger brother. Illicit love... there was nothing more tortured and more delicious.

“No... don’t stop...” Sam whined when Dean broke the kiss. He gasped as his shorts were pulled down, then watched through heavy lidded eyes as Dean tore off his own jeans. Half sitting, bracing himself of one elbow, Sam shyly closed his legs and covered his shaft with his hand, stroking it ever so slightly, his eyes wide... focused on his brother’s thick cock. “So _big_ he said breathlessly, licking his lips, and swallowing. 

* * *

His brother’s sudden display of shyness, the way the younger boy closed his legs and covered himself made Dean still. Lust still burned through his veins like fire, especially the way Sam was looking at his cock with a mixture of nervousness and wonder. Clearly remembering the feel of his brother’s lips wrapped around his aching flesh…

Dean wanted nothing more than to tear Sam’s hand away, to push open his legs to look at, touch, kiss, and lick every intimate part of his brother’s body. To claim every inch of that fresh virginal body as his own, but he refused to do anything that might hurt or scare the younger boy. If Sam told him to stop, he would, without hesitation, no matter how it might pain him. He would not do anything that his brother did not want him to.

For a moment, all he could do was watch the slow movements of those long fingers covering his brother’s dick, lightly caressing its hard length. His mouth practically watering with the thought of replacing those fingers with his tongue, before he forced his eyes back up to meet Sam’s.

He crawled up the length of the bed and laid down beside his brother, propped up on his elbow on his side, not touching Sam except for the hand on the younger boy’s thigh that he slowly slid up from his knee to his brother’s waist. His thumb caressing over his hip bone before moving back down, shifting to Sam’s inner thigh before moving back up slowly. His fingers curling up just behind the younger boy’s balls before moving back down.

“You’re so beautiful, let me look at you, Sammy, please…” Dean whispered, licking his lips. Gently coaxing his brother’s legs apart again. “Do you want me to touch you? Kiss you? Lick you? Tell me what you want…”

* * *

Sam squirmed, let Dean see how his caresses were affecting him. His breaths were shallow and audible. His gaze, locked on Dean’s eyes as he inched his thighs apart for his brother. “I’m not beautiful.” He answered, his color rising.

His hand slowly slipped off his shaft, but now he didn’t know where to place it and looked a bit unsure. He wetted his lips, then stretched his hand out to touch Dean’s cock, eyes raising up to see if he had permission. Petting it gently, he rolled closer to his brother and brought his open mouth down over his.

His hand and tongue didn’t move quite in unison because he was too inexperienced to be able to concentrate on both. He tangled his tongue with Dean’s, moaning softly, then pulling back. “Touch me Dean. With your mouth,” he nodded, kissing him quickly again, then holding his breath.

* * *

Dean bit back a groan as he watched how his little brother shifted and squirmed just from his lightest touch. He longed to just grab the boy and pull that young beautiful body tight against him so he could feel Sam moving and shifting and rubbing against every inch of him but the last thing he wanted to do was scare his brother, and so he forced himself to go slow. Even though he couldn’t stop himself from moaning and the hungry look that entered his eyes when Sam did as he asked, sliding his legs apart obediently and removing his hand from his beautiful cock.

“Of course you are, I wouldn’t lie about that.” The elder boy replied, his whole body hyper aware of the heat being generated from Sam, his fingers practically burning where they touched forbidden flesh. Sliding up the younger boy’s thigh once more and not stopping there this time. Cupping his little brother’s heavy sack and giving it a gentle squeeze, ghosting his fingers up the length of the younger boy’s cock from root to tip.

He nodded when Sam reached out to touch him, giving his brother permission when the younger boy looked at him and moaning again when Sam touched him in return. When his brother moved closer, kissing him again, Dean responded immediately. Wrapping his arm around the younger boy’s back and tugging him even closer, sweeping his palm up from Sam’s waist to his shoulders, and then down again to his ass. Petting and squeezing his brother’s soft downy cheeks as Sam’s tongue played in his mouth and his fingers played with his cock. So fucking sweet…

His brother’s request made him groan and he nodded as the younger boy kissed him again. Dean took more control of the kiss this time, letting his tongue sweep into the warm cavern of Sam’s mouth as he clutched Sam closer and rolled them both over so that he was on top of the younger boy. Sliding a leg between his little brother’s thighs he rubbed his hard erection against Sam’s hip as he continued their kiss till he simply had to come up for air. Then he proceeded to rain soft tender kisses all over the younger boy’s face, his warm breath panting over Sam’s skin as he tasted his way down his brother’s jaw to his neck.

“Taste so good…” Dean whispered as he nuzzled the younger boy there, he couldn’t get over how soft and smooth his brother’s skin still was, while he knew his own cheeks and chin had a day’s worth of stubble. So damned young… but even his guilt wasn’t enough to stop him anymore as he sucked and bit and licked at the little hollow at the base of his brother’s throat. Sliding down Sam’s body, sweeping his hands down the younger boy’s chest and sides and his mouth following their path. His tongue flicking out to swirl around one of the younger boy’s peaked nipples, sucking and biting lightly on it while his fingers toyed and pinched the other. Pressing himself close to his brother, savoring every squirm and mewl of pleasure he drew out of Sam. 

* * *

  
_Desire. Lust. Want._  
  
Emotions... needs ran so deep... had been denied so long, once they broke free, there was no stopping them. They were a force of nature, crashing around them like powerful waves, building up and seeking, searching for outlets, overrunning the banks.

As sweet as the kiss had been, the instant Dean took control of it, Sam’s pleasure intensified. Groaning, he obediently rolled on his back, his head tipping back as Dean’s weight sank into him. His brother’s knee moved between his legs and automatically, Sam clenched his thighs around it and started to move, rubbing himself against it as surely as his brother was fucking into his hip.

His breaths came faster, hotter. “Dean... oh my God Dean...” he thrashed from side to side as Dean’s mouth moved over him, feathering kisses, leaving burning hot trails over his skin, making him so sensitive that every touch sent fire through his veins.

Small sounds tore from his throat as Dean’s mouth did things to him, moving down his body. The fiery sensation that ran through him at the first touch of Dean’s tongue against his nipple had Sam almost jackknife up. If it weren’t for the weight of his brother, he would have. He moved his own hand to his other nipple, touching himself... discovering his body.

Dean was touching him, licking and kissing him with such excruciating slowness that Sam started to buck. “More... Dean please, faster... more,” he pleaded.

* * *

Dean moaned as his brother’s fingers took over where his hand been playing with his nipple. Using his now free hand, he slid his palm down to Sam’s stomach. Pressing down, holding the younger boy in place while his tongue continued to tickle the tight pink nub beneath it. Sam’s desperate pleas urging him on, giving more, everything his brother asked for. Sucking harder, taking the sensitive peak between his teeth and pulling gently. His brother’s hard cock leaving damp scorching trails over his thigh and he knew he wasn’t going to stop until he tasted the younger boy everywhere. Until he felt his brother’s pulse beating strongly against his tongue, his lips wrapped around the base of the younger boy’s cock, while Sam shot his load down the back of his throat.

Giving Sam’s nipples one last kiss, Dean continued down his brother’s body. Kissing and sucking and nipping at the sweat dampened skin as he went. His tongue dipping into the younger boy’s belly button while his fingers slid through the soft trail of hair leading from Sam’s navel to his groin. Finally he pulled back, just enough so he could watch as his fingers curled around his brother’s hot length. He gave the surprisingly long thick cock a slow stroke from base to tip, and groaned when he saw a perfect pearly bead of precome form at the slit.

Dean’s eyes flicked up to his brother’s, his gaze locking with the younger boy’s, as he dipped his head to lap away that drop with his tongue. The taste of his brother’s pleasure exploding over his tongue the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, and Dean groaned again as he swirled his tongue all around the swollen red head. He spent several long minutes playing with the sensitive underside, dipping into the slit over and over while his fingers continued to slide up and down the length of his brother’s shaft. His other hand digging into the younger boy’s hip to keep Sam from squirming or bucking up into his mouth until he was ready.

Finally Dean parted his lips and swallowed down his brother’s cock completely in one smooth motion. Groaning around the head of the younger boy’s dick when he felt it nudge at the back of his throat. Dean let go of his brother’s hip, letting the younger boy fuck up into his mouth as he bobbed his head. Sucking hard enough for his cheeks to hollow as he took Sam completely into his mouth over and over, never looking away from Sam’s eyes as he worked to give his brother the best blow job he would ever have in his whole life. 

* * *

Pleasure came at him from a thousand angles. Dean’s mouth, his tongue, leaving hot wet trails over his body, teasing mercilessly, then making it better. Dean’s hands, sometimes gentle, sometimes demanding, always groping, always touching, like he was making sure Sam was still there, with him, like he couldn’t bear any separation.

Sam writhed and licked his lips. Need now eclipsed Dean’s guilt, but it was delicious just the same. Dean might be older, but he was still a teenager, still at the mercy of his hormones... and his hormones had been driving him up the wall for a long time when it came to his brother. Now _it_ offered Dean his brother on a silver platter, and the emotions storming inside Dean were wreaking havoc with the boy, whether he knew it or not.

“Mmmn.... Dean,” he whispered, moving his legs uncontrollably as the elder Winchester grasped his cock and then looked at him. He licked his lips, his tongue darting out, soaking up his brother’s rapt attention and doing it again. Right now... Right now Dean knew he was going to hell, but he didn’t care... couldn’t.

As Dean’s tongue wiped his dick free of precum, and then started to torture him... dipping repeatedly into the slit at the head of his cock, Sam whimpered. Desire... need was as deeply etched on his face as it was on his brother’s. He didn’t say anything, but the way he tried to buck his hips... that told Dean he was desperate... desperate for more, and that it was only his brother’s hold on his hips that were preventing him from fucking Dean’s mouth.

Bracing with his elbows so he could watch, Sam’s eyes widened when Dean took him, all of him into his mouth. At the first suck, Sam threw his head back, eyes closed, a groan tearing from the back of his throat. His fists curled around the bedsheets, he held on like they were his anchors, and then he started to thrust.

Little sounds broke from his throat as Dean moved up and down his shaft. When he opened his eyes, Sam found himself practically fucking the wet heat of Dean’s mouth, and his brother was letting him... no longer holding him down. He thrashed, his eyes glazing but locked to Dean’s, biting his lips... trying desperately but unsuccessfully to hold back his cries.

His balls started to draw up tight against his body. “Dean move.” He took a couple breaths, legs shifting. “Dean, I’m gonna.... Dean....” he tried to warn his brother as his body stiffened like a board and he started to come... hard.

* * *

Sam’s whimpers and moans of pleasure burned his ears. The feel of Sam’s hot dripping cock against his tongue scorched his mouth, his tongue, his throat. Hellfire… The road to hell definitely wasn’t paved with good intentions. It was paved with getting off on the feeling of your baby brother writing and moaning and thrusting his cock down your throat. Dean didn’t care one damned bit.

Dean watched. Every moan that spilled from his brother’s lips that he cause, he savored. Every time Sam lifted his hips, shoving himself deeper into his mouth, into his throat Dean moaned around him. The sweat glistening on his brother’s flesh, the lust in Sam’s eyes, he savored it all. The most forbidden fruit, and he savored every bit of it greedily.

As Sam’s whimpers changed in pitch, as the younger boy began to thrash harder beneath him, as he felt his little brother’s balls tighten, Dean didn’t know if he could have stopped if their father had suddenly appeared at the door threatening to kill him for molesting his younger brother. When Sam began to “warn” him of what Dean already knew was imminent, Dean only sucked harder, taking the younger boy as deeply as he could into his throat without choking around him.

The first shot of the younger boy’s semen down his throat made Dean feel light headed, and he barely remembered to swallow. Not wanting to lose a single drop, but he simply hadn’t anticipated Sam to come so much or so hard, and he was forced to pull off just to take a breath. Causing the younger boy to shoot over his face and lips as well as in his mouth.

Rather than feeling gross or disgusted though, Dean merely moaned, licking his lips and the head of his brother’s cock as though he were savoring the most delicious treat in the world. 

* * *

An urgent and desperate cry broke out of Sam as he came, half sitting up, hands digging into the mattress, fingers clenched around mounds of now wrinkled sheets. His hair was plastered to his forehead, a sheen of sweat covering his entire body. His eyes widened as his cock slipped out of Dean's mouth and another rope of cum shot out of him.

"Dean!" Fear and embarrassment crossed his features as he drew his knees half way back and sat up. Reaching out, he started to wipe Dean's face, his hands shaking, and his voice hesitant and fearful. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean… I tried to tell…"

Tears welled up in Sam's eyes. He was making more of a mess than helping, but in his panic, he couldn't even think of using the sheets or finding something. "Don't be mad… I…" Then the hot tears started falling, streaming down his cheeks and rolling onto his chest. "So sorry…"

* * *

The sudden change in his brother’s demeanor, going from nothing but pleasure and need written on the younger boy’s face to shame and even fear stunned Dean so much at first he could only stare dumbfounded at Sam from his position between the younger boy’s legs. He blinked up at his brother stupidly, even as the tears welling up in Sam’s eyes made his heart twist painfully in his chest while the younger boy frantically wiped at his face.

Don’t be mad? Why would he be…

It finally clicked and Dean didn’t know whether to laugh at his brother’s mortification, his pain, his fear, or feel guilty at having been the cause even if he hadn’t meant to. Dean gently grasped the hand that was doing little but smearing the younger boy’s come across his face and lips as he pushed himself up, shaking his head at the same time.

“No, Sammy. No I’m not mad. How could I be mad?” Dean tried to reassure, his heart twisting all the more painfully at the tears now running down his brother’s face.

Climbing up the length of his brother’s body he gathered the younger boy close to his chest and held him tightly. Running his fingers soothingly down his brother’s hair and back as he tried again.

“Sam, I’m NOT mad. It was amazing. I liked it. Every second. I’ve wanted to do that for so long. Wanted to taste you for so long…” God, he sounded like such a fucking pervert. But if it comforted the younger boy Dean would admit to all of his perverse and hell worthy thoughts and longings he’d ever had for Sam. Dean took Sam’s hand in his own again and brought the younger boy’s come slick fingers back to his lips. Taking his brother’s index finger into his mouth and sucking on it softly with a moan of pleasure.

* * *

Sam clung to Dean, accepting the comfort his brother freely offered, and forcing him to put to words his guilty desires… needs that had been building up for sometime making him ripe pickings. He stopped sniffling, and wiggled his finger inside Dean’s mouth, stroking his tongue. “Me too Dean. Sleep on top of me,” he whispered, pulling his brother down over him just as the bedroom door opened. "I like how you feel. So hard and..." _It_ dissipated into thin air.

“Dean? Are you alright?” Sam asked, looking wide eyed at his brother who was hunched over kinda funny. “You were… I thought I heard a noise.”

When his brother didn’t answer, he walked into the room and even only by the moonlight streaming in, he noticed how sweaty Dean’s forehead had gotten. He touched to confirm, then sat down on the side of the bed and started to push Dean over onto his back. “You’re burning up. You gotta take more Tylenol and water. I’m… I’m gonna sleep here tonight, okay? Dean?” His voice rose an octave as a sense of slight panic started to rise inside him.

* * *

  
_Me too._ He wondered exactly what Sam was referring to, but Dean couldn’t think clearly enough to ask when the younger boy pulled him down on top of him. Asking him to sleep with him, on top of him, just like this. Both of them smelling like sex and skin slick with sweat and there was nothing Dean wanted more right now…

But in the blink of an eye, Sam was gone…

Except Sam was there, behind him, standing in the doorway… and Dean’s heart practically stuttered to a halt in his chest at his brother’s soft concerned words. His _real_ brother. His brother who would be horrified and disgusted if he knew just what Dean had… fantasized… hallucinated… he wasn’t even sure… about sucking Sam off…

Fuck, Dean swore he could still taste the younger boy’s seed in his mouth…

Dean quickly wiped at the sweat on his face, and he wasn’t sure where he found the will to actually turn and look up at Sam. He knew his eyes must have been wide with something akin to panic as the younger boy reached out to touch him and suddenly Dean felt like he was going to be sick.

Burning up… he felt like he was burning up, being incinerated inside by guilt and shame. And Sammy was completely oblivious, mistaking his flush of arousal for sickness. The darkness and the sheets Dean gathered around his waist hiding his painful erection. Thank god. Once Sam left at least he could take care of the shameful proof of his sick desires…

Dean thought he was going to suffer heart failure when Sam suddenly offered to sleep in here with him tonight. Probably to take care of him… There were so many fucking reasons why Sam shouldn’t Dean couldn’t possibly count them all right now. But after everything that had happened today, tonight… the thought of pushing Sam away for any reason, even if it was for the younger boy’s own good… what if it blew up in his face again like earlier?

Sam’s sudden, almost fearful, change in tone jarred Dean enough to finally answer instead of simply staring at the younger boy like some kind of sicko.

“Yeah… ok, Sam.” He managed to croak out and almost wanted to kick himself. Couldn’t he have come up with something, anything, to let his brother down gently? To convince Sam that he was fine and didn’t need babysitting? Apparently not. Apparently his entire brain was suffering from lack of blood flow and it was making him even stupider than normal.

“You’re right, I should probably take some more meds, I’m not feeling all that hot. Can you get me some?” Dean asked the younger boy. At least that would give him time to put his fucking pants back on. 

* * *

The lost, confused look in Dean’s face, and his failure to immediately respond had started to freak him out. Then Dean agreed, and admitted he wasn’t doing well. Course that didn’t make Sam feel a lot better, but at least his brother wasn’t ‘out of it’ like he’d first started to believe.

He nodded, “I’ll get them. You…” He touched Dean’s forehead one more time, and got up. “Rest.”

Sam scurried out of the room, really not liking how Dean looked. In any normal family, they’d be heading to the hospital about now. But no, Winchesters had to take care of themselves unless they were on death’s bed. He knew there was no way in hell he could convince Dean they needed a doctor. He just hoped like hell that tomorrow, his brother would be better cause if he had to guess, he’d say Dean was looking worse.

As he got the Tylenol and poured some water into a glass, it hit him. Dean was doing better earlier, when he’d managed to get to the shower. Now… after having come out in the rain to look for him in the middle of the night, he was worse.

Guilt eating at him, he almost crept into the room, eyes on his brother. When he reached the bed, he sat next to him and passed the meds and water, and hung his head. “You… you shouldn’t have gone out in the rain, not like this. I’m sorry…. Sorry Dean, for all the trouble.”

Why was it when he didn’t have a hard knot of anger balled up in his stomach, it was a knot of guilt? Why couldn’t things be like they’d been a year ago, before he started to go through periods of extreme emotions? Sometimes he blamed dad, and even Dean, but … it wasn’t just them. It was him. He wished he knew how to let stuff go, how to get back to that happy place where he wasn’t making his brother miserable or putting him in danger… like this?

Taking the empty glass back, he put it aside, then lay down on his side, facing Dean. “Need anything?” he whispered, knowing there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to help his brother.

* * *

Dean couldn’t help breathing a small sigh of relief when the younger boy finally left the room. Fuck. Even the gentle touch of Sam’s hand to his forehead practically burned him. Cursing himself, Dean let the sheets around his waist fall as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He didn’t have a lot of time until Sam came back.

Though the young man hadn’t expected the sudden wave of dizziness to smack him in the face once he was sitting up. Now that the adrenaline fueled by lust had faded he felt completely… drained… He could barely keep himself upright and not simply fall out of bed onto his ass as he reached over the side of the bed for his, thankfully, only slightly damp jeans.

Getting them on however and pulled up, not to mention buttoned up, was an even greater challenge. Thankfully his erection had started to wilt by then. Shame and disgust at himself was good for that. Had worked for a long time in fact, until the strength of his desires had begun to outweigh his shame. What had happened tonight though… twice… far outweighed any of his previous fantasies he’d ever had about the younger boy.

So real he knew he should probably be worried he’d suffered brain damage in that car accident… or worse… there had been something before… before he simply couldn’t stop himself from touching and kissing the image of his brother. But Dean had more important things to worry about right now. Playing sick… well… not really playing… for his over concerned _real_ brother who had absolutely no idea what a disgusting pervert he really was.

With a heavy sigh Dean laid down in the bed again and covered himself up just in time for Sam to come back with the pills and water he promised. The younger man looking almost hesitant as he approached the bed and Dean’s heart began to hammer a little in fear that maybe he’d given himself away after all, before Sam began to apologize.

“Don’t, Sammy. No more apologies, ok? Besides I’ve got way more to be sorry for today than you do...” Dean said softly. If Sam only knew… With a soft sigh he tossed back the pills, since he really did feel like crap, and downed the whole glass because he knew Sam would probably nag at him if he didn’t. Handing back the empty glass to his brother, Dean offered the younger boy a small reassuring smile. He shook his head slightly.

“Nah, I’m good. Feel better already.” He replied. Yeah, they both knew he was full of shit, but if it would ease that worried guilty look on the younger boy’s face that’s all that mattered. “Good night, Sammy.”


	5. Chapter 5

Laying on his side, for a long time… long after Dean closed his eyes, Sam watched him. He'd left a little light on in case he needed to move fast to get something for Dean, and now, in the light, he started to notice even more how tired and sick his brother looked. His skin was pale and yellowish, and there were even dark shadows under his eyes. Weird how his injuries seemed to be stable but the rest of him seemed to be getting worse.  


  
_Rain. You made him go out in the rain, when he could barely walk. He went barefooted._ No matter what Dean ordered, he couldn't help feeling bad about that and responsible for Dean's state. Reaching out, he put his palm close to Dean's nose… felt his breaths, and dropped his hand between them. He was too still, and yeah… maybe his imagination was getting the best of him.

As he closed his own eyes eventually, he hoped he wouldn't thrash around too much and disturb Dean. They hadn't slept in the same bed for a long time, but the last times they had, he remembered Dean's grumbling complaints about him hogging blankets and rolling over to his side. He'd do his best not to do that.

Sam bent his knees and felt his knee cap touch something humid. His eyes flew open and he pulled the sheet down to find Dean had never taken off the wet jeans. "Dean." His whisper seemed to fall on deaf ears and he sighed.

Whatever. He started to undo his brother's jeans. It might be his fault Dean had gotten all wet, but it would not be his fault that Dean had then slept in wet clothes. The fever had to be affecting his brain. The sound of the zipper broke the silence in the room, and then Sam was trying to pull the clinging material down Dean's hips.

* * *

The next morning Dean would have probably been surprised just how fast he had fallen asleep, practically as soon as he let his eyes drop closed. He would have sworn he would have lain awake the rest of the night feeling uncomfortable in his slightly damp jeans and lingering hard on. But either he really was pretty sick, still weakened from his injuries in the accident, or just plain mentally exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the last couple of days (most likely all of the above) because he was literally out like a light within minutes. Too tired to even dream… considering his last few “dreams” and the situation that was probably a very good thing.

Normally he was very aware of Sam, to an obviously painful degree. Normally he could go from a dead sleep to fully alert in less than a second if he needed to, but the young man didn’t even stir when his brother whispered his name. He didn’t feel the sheet slide off his body or the younger boy shift closer to him.

Dean wasn’t so gone as to not notice the feel of his brother’s hands at the waistband of his jeans, however he didn’t wake up either. A soft groan escaped his throat as he rolled over onto his back in response to the insistent tugging, a slight frown pinching his forehead in complaint. One part of his body might be interested but the rest of him certainly was not. He was too fucking tired… too tired, Sammy…

“No more…” Dean mumbled in his sleep and tried to roll away from the younger boy as Sam started tugging the wet jeans down his hips. 

* * *

“Dean, don’t move,” Sam hissed in frustration. As if Dean weren’t heavy enough, now he had to roll him back. Still his brother was motionless. Gritting his teeth, he worked the pants down some more, eyes widening when he found his brother had gone commando.

The wet material slipped from Sam’s fingers as he pulled away, trying not to look. Not that he hadn’t seen Dean in the nude often, like when he’d talked to him in the shower, but this was a bit… strange. He’d have to tease him about it later.

Once again leaning over to tug the damned pants off, he felt heat steal over his cheeks. He dragged his gaze away again, and tried to rush. Straddling Dean’s calves, he pulled harder until the jeans slipped past his knees and it got easier to get them off. “Just a little more. Almost there… almost,” he half chanted under his breath.

* * *

Dean didn't hear his brother's frustrated complaints. He simply rolled over onto his stomach, hugging the pillow and kicking half heartedly in response to the hands tugging at his pants. At least, he did until Sam sat on them to keep them still and Dean grumbled in his sleep but didn't move any longer.

Finally the damp clingy material slipped off from around his thighs, knees, and was finally tugged off his feet. If he appreciated the new freedom and comfort he didn't express it. He simply slipped deeper into his dreams now that the insistent annoying tugging was over and done with. He didn't even move except to snore softly when a light sheet was draped over his nude body.

He slept so heavily he didn't feel his brother finally getting himself settled into the bed next to him. He didn't hear it when the younger boy's soft rhythmic breathing began to match his soft snores. He didn't even feel it when his brother began to shift and roll around a little bit in the bed next to him, maybe from a nightmare or just general restlessness from the heat.

The younger boy finally settling only once he was practically plastered up against his back, a long arm thrown over him and a leg wound between his own. Dean didn't think he had slept so good in a long time.

That was how Dean woke. His brain feeling like it was wrapped up in warm cotton. His body wrapped up in heat. The sweat that had been generated between their bodies hot and making them practically stick together when he tried to move. Not that he wanted to move really. He was more comfortable than he would have imagined with an electric blanket draped over him in the middle of summer. He was just hard. Achingly so. His morning wood trapped beneath him, and all he could think about was rubbing his dick against that lean muscled thigh between his legs.

"Sammy..." Dean moaned softly.

* * *

The call brought Sam out of his heavy sleep. “Dean?” He lifted up slightly, and his chin resting on Dean’s shoulder. “You alright. Need another drink?” he asked, eyes still closed.

He listened to Dean’s even breathing, and wondered if he too was half asleep. Slowly, he started to realize he was practically on top of his brother. Like he used to sleep when he was a kid. It brought back lots of memories. How Dean used to sooth away his nightmares. Stroke his hair until he fell asleep again. Or assure him that he had a bullet with the name of anyone or anything that dared try to get to Sammy Winchester. God... he’d felt so safe, and so close to Dean then.

He took a breath, wondered if they would ever get there again. Or was it something you grew out of? It hurt to think so, and there had already been too many tears between them.

He laughed softly in Dean’s ear, tickling it with his finger. “Hey Dean, I’m all over your.” He laughed again, “aren’t you hot? You have to be sick if you haven’t kicked me away yet, hmm?” He ticked him again. “Dean... just like before, when we were kids.”

Yeah, his brother probably heard nothing or had no clue what he was babbling about. He started to move and found that his leg had gotten trapped between Dean’s. Laughing again, he started taking his leg back, a slight shock running through him when he suddenly realized and remembered he’d stripped his brother down to nothing.

* * *

The fog in his brain didn’t dissipate even when the soft voice in his ear and the tickle of warm breath across his cheek pushed him more towards being awake. Was he awake? Or was he dreaming? He didn’t know the difference anymore. He was still too much asleep to understand what his brother was whispering into his ear, but a content smile curved his lips anyway. All he knew was that the warm weight against his back felt good, despite how hot he already was. He felt good, despite… not feeling good… As long as Sam was with him he didn’t care how “not good” he felt.

So when he felt the younger boy’s heat begin to draw away, the leg tangled with his own withdrawing, Dean couldn’t stop the small moan of complaint that escaped his lips. _Sammy… don’t leave… please don’t leave me. Love you… love you so much…_

Dean rolled onto his side and then his back, trying to follow the younger boy’s withdrawing warmth. He managed to snake his arms around his brother’s slim waist and tug him close again. Their bodies flush. Skin to skin. His hard cock pressing insistently against the younger boy’s thigh.

His fingers trailed slowly up the length of the younger boy’s back, over his shoulder blade, up the back of his neck to thread into the soft fall of hair. His fingers pet through the soft silken mass lovingly before he cupped the back of Sam’s head and tugged his brother closer. His lips seeking out and finding Sam’s, warm and soft and just as sweet as he remembered. 

* * *

  
Sam had thought Dean was complaining, like he always did when something threatened to wake him. He stilled, just so he could move away more carefully, when Dean's arm suddenly wound around his waist and dragged him up hard against his body. Sam's exclamation was swallowed the instant he realized there was absolutely no room between himself and Dean, and that Dean's morning wood was pricking his thigh.

A sense of fear and embarrassment swept through him, his cheeks burning. His heart slammed into his chest and he knew he had to get out of this predicament before his brother woke. "Ah..." He swallowed as his brother stroked his hair and held him just a little tighter, moving his hand behind his head and trapping him. Did he think...

And then their mouths were pressed together, and Sam was bombarded by feelings of confusion. His brother was kissing him, his tongue was inside his mouth. He should stop this, even if he had to wake Dean, he should. And then his tongue was playing tag with Dean's, and he hadn't even realized he was doing that, or how good it felt. His entire body was buzzing and thrumming, in a way he'd never experienced. No, that wasn't true. This was a bit like how he felt when he needed to go to the bathroom for privacy, and when he jerked off. Just the idea of jerking off, coupled with the heat Dean's mouth was generating inside him drew a deep groan from Sam.

Oh God...oh God, he was getting a stiffy. It wasn't just a morning stiffy, he was getting hard because of the way Dean was kissing him, and the way Dean's arousal felt against his bare leg. Oh God, Dean pressed against him, and the pressure against his dick had Sam wanting to rub against Dean, needing to find an outlet for the heat pooling in his groin.

Eyes widening at the thought of what he was about to do, he jerked out of Dean's hold and rolled to the side of the bed, one hand covering where his shorts tented. His breaths coming out much too fast, he stared at Dean's innocent face. So that's how he got all the girls!

Swinging his legs off the bed, and fighting not to wig out over this, Sam padded out of the room and went straight to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror at his flushed face, his lower lip reddened from biting on it, and then the real struggle began. He really shouldn't reach for the vaseline... really shouldn't. It would be wrong, so wrong, because right now all he could think about what how Dean felt, and how he made him feel. And God, if Dean ever found out he jacked off to that, he'd kick his ass.

* * *

Feeling Sam’s tongue playing against his own, feeling the younger boy’s stiffening flesh against his thigh, made Dean moan again in pleasure and need. His little brother was so damned sweet. So hesitant and shy even after everything they had already done. Quite frankly, Dean found it endearing and it made his protective instinct kick in to full gear even as it made him burn with desire.

God, he could just imagine what it would be like to finally fuck the younger boy. To open Sam up slowly with his fingers and tongue until his brother was begging for more. To slip inside that tight hot virgin passage and make love to Sam slowly.

He would go slow because he didn’t want to hurt Sam. Because he wanted his brother to love it, love Dean fucking him, as much as Dean would. He wanted Sam quivering and panting in his ear as he slowly filled him up over and over. He wanted his brother screaming his name as he came, his already tight muscles fluttering and clenching around him, making Dean spill his own seed inside…

Soon… when Sam was ready. He wouldn’t do anything to scare his brother. He’d go slow. As slow as Sam needed to. He wouldn’t rush this. He wanted to savor it…

But then suddenly his brother’s warmth was pulling away from him, and Dean whimpered at the loss. Sammy? Where was he going? Sam?

Dean struggled to wake, to see what was wrong, but by the time he opened his eyes his brother was gone… was Sam even there? Of course not, it was just a dream, just like all the others… Dean made a soft sound of despair in the back of his throat as he rolled onto his stomach. Ignoring the hard ache of his cock pressing into the mattress underneath him.

He was losing his fucking mind…

* * *

Twenty minutes later, a cleaned up Sam, dressed in shorts and tee shirt pushed the door to Dean’s bedroom open. He had a hard time making himself look at Dean and felt his color rising the moment he tried. “I ... ah... I got breakfast ready. And I called your boss and told her no way you’re coming in.”

He took a couple more steps into the room, dancing near the bed. “Seriously time to get up.” Dean’s face didn’t look flushed anymore, but he was still hella pale. “Dean?” Why was he afraid to touch him now? Dean was awake, he wasn’t going to pull him into his arms and...

Oh God, what if he remembered? No, no no, Dean had been dreaming. Taking a deep breath, Sam added, “but wait till I get out of the room. Dude... since when do you go commando?” His voice cracked slightly as he thought about how Dean had felt against him.

* * *

Dean knew he must have dozed off again… if he was even awake in the first place, he was never sure anymore… because Sam’s voice from the door woke him. What? Breakfast? Dean honestly wasn’t sure if he was even hungry, but he couldn’t remember when he last ate either.

Sam telling him that he’d called his boss and told her he wasn’t coming in, that woke him up though and Dean pushed himself up with a muttered curse as he looked at the clock. He was late. Or would have been late if Sam hadn’t already told them he wasn’t coming in. But he had to go in, damn it. Maybe the job and the pay was crap but they needed every extra dollar they could get right now.

“Why did you do that?” Dean demanded and started to get up from the bed before Sam’s next words, about him going commando, made him freeze and look down, and then wrap the sheets tightly around his waist. He had gone to bed last night in his jeans for a _reason_. And Sam had… What if he had… no it had just been a dream, just a dream…

“Since when do you undress me?” Dean asked, trying for annoyance but it was fear that was making his heart beat so fast it felt like it might explode. It had to be a dream. Sam wouldn’t be in here talking to him right now if… he’d done anything…

Dean sighed heavily and dry scrubbed his face. Fuck, he was so damned tired. He couldn’t deal with this right now, he had to get to work.

“Go eat breakfast, I need to get ready.” 

* * *

Sam’s eyes widened as Dean started to get up but he let out a breath of relief as his brother just secured sheets around him. Not that he usually gave a rat’s ass about seeing Dean naked, but today... this morning... it was different. After the way he’d felt Dean’s arousal pressing into him as his brother kissed him, it had to be.

Dean’s gruff questions about work startled him out of his reverie. “Cause you don’t look so hot. I mean you _were hot_ all night last night. You have a fever that keeps coming back, Dean. You need rest, or let’s go to the hospital... get you checked out.” He wished Dean would agree to that.

When he asked about his pants, Sam felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “Well you were all wet. Had to be delirious to go to bed in wet jeans, so I... and you’re freakin’ heavy, by the way,” he added.

“You... you’re gonna go to work?” He ignored that Dean told him to go eat. “Dean, you don’t have the car. You’re gonna have to take the bus, sit out there... and... you’re no in any shape for it.” He could see the stubborn tilt of that Winchester jaw. “She would have told me if it was a problem. I can go for you...”

* * *

Dean made a face when the younger boy suggested that he go back to the hospital to get “checked out”. Even though he had been almost wondering the same thing given the dreams… he didn’t want to call them hallucinations, but he swore he’d been awake… But he had already been to the hospital and they had checked out his head, said it was fine, was just a concussion.

Rest. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe that was all he needed. He felt sore and bruised, but mostly he was just tired. Maybe if he rested, just for one day without any kind of stress, maybe he would feel better and he would stop having the dreams.

When Sam suggested that he go to work in his place, saying quite bluntly that Dean was in no shape for it, the older boy scowled. His first instinct, of course, to argue with his brother, insist he was fine, but unfortunately Sam was right and pushing himself was only going to make things worse. Dean sighed heavily and shook his head, dry scrubbing his hand over his face.

“No, you’re right. It’s probably not a big deal.” He relented, dropping his hand and laying back down. “I was already checked out at the hospital, they said I was fine. But I’ll rest, ok?” 

* * *

By the expressions crossing Dean’s face, Sam thought he might have a fight on his hands. Then again, he really doubted Dean would make it out the door, or too far out the door. But when he finally agreed to rest, a sense of relief ran through him. “Okay. I’ll bring your breakfast in here,” he said, leaving the door open and walking out.

_It_ hovered invisibly over Dean. In his sleep, Dean had gotten a taste of his brother. He’d be primed and ready for more sex... just one touch would have him on his knees, crying for it. He was so pretty when he was needy, and even prettier when he tried to fight those needs, to control them for his brother.

Speaking of the brother... _It_ sensed angst laced with lust coming from the boy. Interesting. Maybe later, once he finished the older Winchester, he’d give the younger one his brother back... until he wore Sam out too. Then both brothers would be together into eternity.

_It_ dropped down, on its knees, straddling Dean’s hips, with just the sheets separating his naked body from Dean’s. He started to ride Dean, no preliminaries, nothing. “You kissed me. In your sleep, you kissed me. Why?” He licked his lips, placed both hands on Dean’s chest and leaned down over him. “Is this what you really wanted, Dean?”

* * *

Sam’s obvious relief when Dean agreed to rest made the older boy feel a little less guilty for staying home like this when he should be working. When he had already missed two days of work because he was stupid enough to get into the accident in the first place. Losing two days worth of pay. Money that was supposed to pay for taking care of Sam while their father was away.

Tomorrow. If he wasn’t on his death bed, he was definitely going to work tomorrow and working a double shift if his boss let him to help make up for it.

He rubbed his eyes again tiredly. Almost unable to believe he was still feeling so fucking drained after he’d just slept all night. The sudden weight landing on him was definitely not what he was expecting and the his yelp of surprise as his hand dropped and his eyes snapped open was cut off by a moan he simply couldn’t contain at the sudden pressure against his groin.

Heat. Pressure. Friction.

“Sam…” Dean all but squeaked his brother’s name as his hands scrambled for some kind of purchase, ending up on the younger boy’s bare thighs and he practically choked on his next breath at Sam’s words. Kissed him? In his… but it was just a… he’d been dreaming… then what was this? What the fuck was this?

“What…” 

* * *

Lust and confusion, so delicious. Sam didn’t slow down, especially once he felt Dean’s hand squeeze his thighs, sending heat spiraling through him. He didn’t give Dean any personal space at all, still leaning over him, hand splayed across his chest.

He watched as Dean tried to get himself together, could see... feel the teen struggle. Dipping his head down, he licked across Dean’s mouth, felt the instantaneous reaction, so strong... so strong it made him dizzy.

“Feel good... need this,” he whispered, pulling up from Dean’s mouth before his brother could draw him into a kiss. “Ever since the last time. When you touched me... when your mouth was on me. Dean... I was imagining this... is... is that okay?” He asked like he was struggling with the question, like he needed reassurance. “I was imagining this, and you calling me ‘baby brother’... can you do that? Do that for me?”

Oh he was wicked, but this boy had so much to give him. He wanted to wring out every bit of emotion, and more.

* * *

“Oh god, Sammy…” Dean groaned, his lips parting almost against his will when his brother licked across them. Only it definitely wasn’t against his will, because he wanted this so fucking much it hurt. His lips ached to feel, to taste, the younger boy’s mouth. His hands burned to touch and caress every inch of soft warm skin. His cock was already hard and throbbing against Sam’s bare ass, the only thing separating their flesh a thin sheet, but even that was too much.

He wanted, needed, more.

But when he tried to kiss his brother, Sam pulled back, and Dean whined softly in protest. Panting. Begging silently with his eyes, even as the younger boy drove him crazy. He shouldn’t want this so much, damn it. He shouldn’t need this so much. He should tell Sam that they shouldn’t, it was wrong, that it had been a mistake. That he was sorry, he never should have laid a hand on his brother. He never should have kissed him. Never should have tasted him. Just because Dean was fucked up he shouldn’t fuck his baby brother up too…

But the way Sammy was touching him, talking to him like he needed this just as much as Dean did, asking him if it were all right. So unsure… so beautiful… Dean felt his resolve crumbling away like a sandcastle before a tsunami.

“It’s ok… it’s ok Sammy…” Dean reassured softly, the need inside of him burning him up from the inside out, and he didn’t give a damn. He slid his hands up the younger boy’s back, cupping the back of his neck, pulling him closer and not letting Sam pull away this time as he whispered, “Need this too, need you, baby brother, need you so much…”

* * *

Dean’s words, repeated over and over, crashed over him. He allowed Dean to pull him closer, but slowly, tantalizing him, making him wait for the contact between their mouths, making want it. The way Dean was lifting his hips, rubbing his arousal against his ass, seeking relief, he knew they were moments away from Dean rolling him over. That the need building inside the teen would blow out of control.

“Me too... me too, Dean...” he leaned down, letting his lips slide past Dean’s to his ear. “Want to try what we did before. But ...” he hesitated. “I want to lay down, and then you can fuck my mouth. Want to see you... want to hear you saying it again, calling me your baby brother. Is that sick?”

Oh God such delicious guilt laced lust lanced through it’s body, before it gave a silent snarl and dissipated into thin air, cheated out of its dessert.

Sam stood at the door, his cheeks a bit red. “Need what? And I’m not your ‘baby brother,’” he huffed, unsure why it felt like an intimate moment or something. He had Dean’s coffee, and he’d brought him some toast. His brother’s face looked flushed, like it had when they’d kissed. And the sheets... they weren’t hiding much, not from Sam’s sharp gaze.

He swallowed. Forced himself to walk over and set Dean’s breakfast down on the nightstand, then sit on the edge of the bed. “Is your fever back?” Without giving Dean a chance to answer, he leaned over him, touched his forehead, his cheek, and slid his hand down over his throat. “You’re just a little hot.”

* * *

Oh God!

Was it sick? Yes. It was sick, twisted, and wrong in every possible way, but Dean couldn’t deny that he wanted it. The mental image burned like a brand into his brain and his cock throbbed hot and ready to feel his little brother’s lips wrapped around it. His baby brother’s mouth open wide and taking his thick cock as deep as he could as Dean fucked his mouth…

God help him… He belonged in hell for wanting this, but he couldn’t make himself stop. Even if he dragged his brother down there with him?

Even that horrifying thought wasn’t enough to cool the need inside of him and Dean hated himself all the more for it. However when the image of his brother suddenly vanished from in front of his eyes, his hands grasping nothing but air where there had been warm flesh Dean’s mind was left reeling. What… not Sam… but… he’d been dreaming again? No, he was awake… What the fuck?

Sam’s soft voice from the door, laced with half annoyance half concern had Dean’s eyes snapping in that direction and he could really only hope the confused panic, the crushing guilt, he felt was not so visible on his face. Sam… his Sam, his brother, not his sick imaginings… had heard him. Oh god, how he must look. How much had Sam heard? What had he heard? Dean couldn’t even remember what he’d said anymore…

Dean didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to say. Sam didn’t look disgusted at him, just concerned. When Sam touched his forehead, his face, it was all Dean could do not to flinch away from his brother’s fingers. It was all he could do not to burst into hopeless tears and tell Sam everything, begging his brother’s forgiveness when he was done.

Maybe he should go back to the hospital… this... wasn’t normal. But what the hell was he supposed to tell them? That he was hallucinating about fucking his fifteen year old brother?

“I don’t know…” Dean finally managed to whisper. 

* * *

Dean’s admission just got him more worried. If there was any chance in hell that Dean would agree, Sam would have called an ambulance or figured out some other way to get Dean to the hospital. But he could see how it would all go down. First Dean would tell the doctors that he was just fine. They’d think the low grade fever was nothing, and send him home. Then Dean would kill him. Hospital was pretty much out.

“Okay, we’ll watch the fever, and see what happens,” he reluctantly agreed. “But you gotta eat.” Ignoring the look of displeasure that crossed Dean’s face, he stuck a couple of the pillows up against the headboard and scooted a bit further away while Dean sat up. He really did look like hell.

Dragging his gaze away, Sam first had him drink some more water. Then he gave him the coffee, which Dean set on the other side of the bed. And then he watched him start eating the toast with jam. Only when Dean was half way done, was Sam satisfied that his brother would eat, or at least get something inside him. Neither of them had eaten the night before.

He rambled on a little, just making conversation about having wanted to go to summer school and didn’t Dean think it was dumb that only remedial students could go. It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t find stuff to do, but more that vacation was just too long. Especially with Dean working and dad gone. And he wasn’t even gonna bring up the fact that it wasn’t a ‘real’ vacation, if they didn’t do anything other than go on hunts. Looking at Dean from under his lashes, he figured he’d bored his brother enough. “I’m gonna bring the t.v. in here,” he said. “We can watch.”

_It_ glared at the young teen walking out of the room. How was it to take Dean, wring all of his lust out of him, when the younger one planned on watching him? Landing on the bed, straddling Dean thighs again, pushing the plate out of the way, he licked the jam off Dean’s lips, putting a hand on his cheek. “Tell him no t.v., you’re tired. Tell him to stay out of the room, and you can dream of me… Please Dean, I need you… need you so bad…” he rubbed his mouth back and forth against Dean’s until the younger brother carrying the t.v. “Choose me…”

* * *

Sam sounded so fucking calm. Worried, sure, but calm. When Dean felt like he was close to panicking, losing his mind, or most likely both. Maybe Sam hadn’t heard too much? Didn’t suspect? Surely his brother wouldn’t be offering him food and helping him sit up so he could eat if Sam thought he was some kind of sicko.

Eat… Dean frowned slightly. He probably should, but at the same time food was really the last thing on his mind right now. Sam didn’t really give him a choice though, pushing a glass of water into his hands and practically giving him the evil eye until he drank. Dean was still feeling guilty enough about… everything… he put up with the pampering without much fuss. He drew the line however at letting Sam spoon feed him. He’d eat, but he’d feed himself, damn it.

He was a little surprised that once he got a little bit of toast into him his stomach began cramping in demand for more. The empty hollow feeling in his stomach he hadn’t even really been paying attention to before definitely making itself known. Damn, he hadn’t even realized how hungry he was. Dean made sure to pace himself slowly though, it wasn’t going to do him any good if he ate and then threw up right afterwards.

Sam talking about wanting to go to summer school had Dean rolling his eyes a little. He’d never understood how Sam could actually _enjoy_ school so much. Dean couldn’t wait to graduate just so he didn’t have to go anymore and could go on more hunts with Dad. He would have quit school early, if Dad had let him, but that was one thing their father had insisted on, that he graduate high school, even if Dean barely graduated.

“You could always flunk a little, then they’d send you to summer school.” Dean suggested and Sam responded with his bitch face and the older boy grinned back. When Sam finally suggested bringing the TV in here so they could watch again, Dean almost protested, he could watch TV just fine on the couch but he didn’t get the chance.

Sam was barely out of the room when Dean suddenly found himself faced with a very naked version of his brother in his lap once more, grinding down on him and licking his lips, and Dean’s thoughts of _not right, very wrong_ were pushed away by the thick blanket of lust that clouded his thoughts. Tell Sam to… ? Choose? Oh god… he needed this… needed Sam so much… but…

An image of his brother sitting curled up on the bus bench in the rain flashed before Dean’s eyes and it was enough to penetrate the fog just a little. This wasn’t Sam. It wasn’t his brother… he… loved Sam. He needed _Sam_ , not this. He wasn’t going to push Sam away again. He was going to control this, damn it! It was all in his head and he could control it!

“No…” Dean finally managed to force out, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind. Not right. Something’s not right. Even as the hallucination vanished again, Dean put his hand to his forehead, groaning softly at the throbbing behind his eyes. He felt something warm and wet drip from his nose down to his lip, and when he tried to lick it away Dean wasn’t surprised by the thick taste of copper. Dean might have been stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. He looked up at Sam as his brother came in with the television, waited at least until the younger boy put it down on the dresser before he spoke.

“I need to go back to the hospital.” 

* * *

  
Sam repositioned the television. "No... what?" he asked, a smile on his face as he turned. Dean's words hit him at the same time as the sight of blood dripping from Dean's nose. It took him just about three seconds to get to Dean's side, lifting his face and sucking his breath in. He'd seen Dean bleed worse than this, a lot worse. But this was just confirmation of the bad feeling that kept coming and going. Nodding, he couldn't bring himself to say anything just yet.

He passed Dean a towel that had been hanging off the chest of drawers, and came back to sit down next to him as he called for an ambulance. "Ah... yes, that's my address. It's my brother, he's sick. Well, actually he has a nose bleed and--" Sam frowned as he was cut off by the voice on the other side telling him that due to the weather, they were having lots of nose bleeds. Then he was asked how much blood there was. "Well not much at the mom--"

He grit his teeth as he was advised on how to deal with nose bleeds, something he was very familiar with. "Hold on, listen to me," he insistent, eyes narrowing in frustration. "I'm not just calling about a fu... a nose bleed. He was in an accident, they said he might have a concussion. He's had headaches and he just..." Sam looked over at Dean. "He doesn't look right. Instead of getting better, it looks like he's getting worse. Fever? Last night yeah, now only a little... maybe."

He grit his teeth as the dispatcher talked to him about the flu and that Dean was probably experiencing multiple problems, rather than just one major issue. He took a couple breaths, deep ones, then he shouted, "Oh my God, his eyes are rolling back... oh my God, oh my God... get here... help me..." with that, he dropped the phone onto the table and crossed the room. Returning with shorts, sweats and a tee, he pulled the sheets off his brother's naked body. He wasn't kidding anymore, nor was he shy or did he give himself time to think about what had happened in that bed last night.

"Legs." He pulled the shorts up to Dean's knees, then followed with the jeans. "Can you stand?" Putting an arm under his brother's armpit, he started to haul his heavy ass up, tugging on his clothes at the same time.

* * *

Dean took the offered towel with a nod of thanks, even though he was internally kicking himself. He hated seeing that scared look in the younger boy’s eyes though Sam was doing a good job at masking it. This was all his fault… he should have listened to Sam, should have gone back to the hospital the first time he realized he wasn’t dreaming but actually seeing things when he was awake. Instead getting off on his fucking hallucinations, so fucking stupid. Now… what if he was bleeding in his brain? What was that called, an aneurysm? What if he was fucking dying right now while he tried to stop a stupid bloody nose?

Though as he watched and listened to Sam on the phone, holding the towel to his nose that was slowly coloring crimson, he began to doubt again. Maybe he really didn’t need to go to the hospital? Maybe he was overreacting? Maybe it was nothing…

When Sam started shouting though Dean actually jumped in surprise and his eyes widened in shock. Sam was a damned good actor. It made him want to check in the mirror just to make sure his eyes _weren’t_ rolling back, or that he wasn’t seizing or something.

Finally the ambulance on its way, fuck, their dad was going to kill him… their insurance cards were going to be worthless after this. Two hospital visits AND an ambulance? If they’d had a car he would have insisted that Sam drive him, but they didn’t, because he’d gotten stupid drunk, crashed it, and now he might be bleeding into his brain…

He wasn’t embarrassed in the least when Sam tugged away the sheets from him and started helping him get dressed. He had other shit to worry about right now.

“Yeah.” He confirmed with a slight nod, though when Sam proceeded to haul him up Dean was shocked by how unsteady he really was. He could stand, barely, but he had to hold onto his brother to keep himself steady when a wave of dizziness hit him. Dean was afraid he might just lose what little breakfast he’d had after all. 

* * *

His brother was so fucking cooperative that it scared the crap out of Sam. He tried not to show it, tried to be strong and positive, getting him dressed and helping him back down onto the bed. It hadn't escaped his notice that his brother had put practically his entire weight on him. And he'd thought he could go in to work? He noticed the way Dean's brows furrowed, like he was worried.

"It's gonna be alright. You don't have to worry about... work and shit, not now Dean. I'll take care of it, alright?" If he had to, he would call their dad. But that would only be a last resort because it would be a heckofalot better if everything was normalized, car was fixed, and Dean was better before their dad got back. There might still be yelling, but it wouldn't be the kind that would blow the roof off the house.

The sound of sirens approached. "Lemme get the door," Sam said, swapping the towel Dean had been holding for a new one. "Hold your head up." Fear made him snap, then guilt flooded his insides. No time for apologies, Dean would understand.

It was the hardest thing, standing back, watching the paramedics take his brother's vitals, getting told to shut up when he tried to ask questions, find out results. Dean was a mess... but so was Sam. He felt lost, unable to help, and the lack of information killed him the most.

*

He made them take him along. All he grabbed was the lap top and Dean's wallet, and jumped into the ambulance. His eyes were always on his brother, encouraging, telling him it was fine. It wasn't as if Dean was going into cardiac arrest or having a stroke or... Oh my God, he had to stop thinking like that. He rand his hand though his hair, telling himself again, it would be fine. Dean had been injured a lot worse... this wouldn't... it couldn't... no, he didn't look _that_ bad.

*

In the hospital, they took his brother away despite having words with him over it. He paced the halls, eyes swinging toward every doctor, every nurse that came out of the swinging doors through which they'd taken Dean. Eventually, a doctor came out to talk to him. Told him that though Dean had a low grade fever, and they weren't sure why he was suffering from the nose bleed, they couldn't see anything specifically wrong. Then he launched into an explanation of the MRI testing and what to expect from the results.

*

The white clad male nurse walked in behind the female and told her he'd take over. The instant she left, _it_ turned to Dean in his brother's form. "You should have listened to me, chosen me. Now look where he brought you."

The confident air fell from Sam, and he approached the bed hesitantly. "You're sick. I'll make you feel better Dean. I will, promise," he said, biting his lower lip as he pulled the thin white sheet off his brother's body. He ran his hand down Dean's chest, then over the light blue hospital pants, cupping his groin. "Want it? Want me to make this all go away Dean? Want to come in my hand?"

* * *

Sammy reassuring him, telling him not to worry... Sammy taking care of him, helping him get dressed and giving him a fresh towel when the other one was all bloody… Sammy promising him everything was going to be all right… It was all so wrong, all so backwards. It should be him reassuring Sam, him taking care of Sam, him promising his brother everything would be all right. But it wasn’t as though Dean could do anything to change that right now. He wanted to make it right, he really did, but how could he?

His headache was getting worse and he could barely sit up on his own. He felt dizzy, weak, light headed, and all he could do was nod and sit there on the edge of the bed while Sam went to answer the door when the ambulance arrived. All he could do was sit there, holding his head back to keep most of the blood from getting everywhere as they shined lights in his eyes, took his pulse, and checked his breathing. He tried to answer their questions the best he could, but he was finding it hard to concentrate. His eyes shifting away from the paramedics and looking towards Sam again and again, as though seeking reassurance, maybe just to make sure Sam was still there, real. Wrong… but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it…

The paramedics taking him out of their house, the ambulance ride back to the hospital, being wheeled into the emergency room, all passed in a kind of blur. He started to put up a fuss when they wouldn’t let Sam come with him, he didn’t know why, but he knew that he needed Sam there, with him. He needed Sam. He needed him… he kept telling them that, but instead they had given him a sedative.

It made him feel groggy, tired, and it was hard to focus on what was going on. But it didn’t do anything for the pain in his head, and he wished they could have at least given him some pain killers too if they were going to drug him up.

He wasn’t asleep, at least he was pretty sure he wasn’t asleep, when he heard Sam’s voice. Soft and admonishing at first, but when he opened his eyes Sam looked only hesitant, unsure, and worried as he approached the bed. Dean tried to offer him a reassuring smile, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. All he cared was that Sam was there. Finally Sam was there…

Dean sighed softly as the sheet covering him was drawn away and a soft moan escaped his throat when his brother’s warm hand slid down his body. God, even that light touch felt so good. He knew this was wrong but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Even before Sam cupped him, squeezed him, and Dean’s hips bucked up into the touch in spite of himself. A groan escaping his parted lips.

“Sammy… yes… Sam…” Dean begged softly. 

* * *

  
_It_ knew how much Dean was resisting, wanting to escape, wanting his real brother to help stop these ‘dreams’ that went too far. At the same time, how could he resist when _it_ wore Sam’s face? Was everything that Dean wanted and needed, especially now, once _it_ had given him a taste of forbidden fruit?

“Don’t move,” Sam whispered, grinding the heel of his hand into Dean’s cock, smiling with satisfaction as it filled out and hardened under his hand. “I’ll take care of you, Dean. Like you take care of me,” he whispered. Eyes locked with his brother’s, he squeezed and pleasured him, but just enough to make him want more, need it,

He pushed his free hand under Dean’s powder blue top, moving it over his abs, digging his fingers in lightly, moving, and squeezing again, mapping his body out. “Used to watch you. When you did your push ups, I used to watch. Then I’d go to the bathroom… and I didn’t know why I had to… I had to…

Licking his lips, he tugged Dean’s pajama pants down, and closed his fist around his cock. “I’d go slow, real slow, just saying your name… over and over… Dean, Dean… Dean…”

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure he could have moved even if he wanted to when Sam’s hand started squeezing and rubbing him through the thin pants he was wearing. His cock was stiffening quickly to the stimulation despite how much like crap the rest of his body felt, however the haze of lust blanketing his thoughts was making him not care about that at all. Everywhere that Sam touched him, heat spread through him, making him forget about anything else but Sam’s touch.

“Sammy…” Dean moaned, his eyes rolling back a little, and his stomach muscles clenching beneath his brother’s hand. His hips bucking up against the younger boy’s hand, seeking more of Sam’s touch.

Yes, he wanted Sam to take care of him, he wanted Sam…

His brother telling him how he used to watch him, and then touch himself, made Dean gasp sharply. Looking up at Sam in wonderment. God, was that true? Or was it only his sick imaginings that wanted it to be true?

“Love you, Sammy… need you…” Dean gasped, begging as he thrust up into Sam’s fingers curled around his hard cock. 

* * *

Sam stroked slowly, carefully, lovingly, sliding his fist up and down Dean’s hardening flesh. His gaze was fixed on the youth, weak and dizzy, the slave of lust pumping powerfully through his veins. So much hope, so much need, such absolute desire.

His nostrils started to flare, his heart beating faster as he feasted on Dean’s emotions, his desires. His own cock grew hard, so hard it took his breath away. “Want me to lick you?” Sam showed Dean his tongue, and instantly felt the youth’s lust spike up... saw it in his eyes, in the way his hips moved with more desperatio.

“Want me to take you in my mouth. Suck you hard? Swallow you?” He asked in a breathy tone, jacking Dean off just a little faster... still not enough to satisfy him... making sure he craved and wanted.

He moved his other hand over to Dean’s face, pushing his thumb into his brother’s mouth... watching as he wove it in and out. “Just like that? Like you’re sucking my thumb, want me to?”

Again and again, he asked whether Dean wanted him to do things... this he stirred Dean’s imagination and desires with, but cruelly withheld. It went on and on, until he could stand it no longer himself.

He unzipped, pulled his jeans down part way and climbed up onto the hospital bed over Dean. Straddling him would give too much satisfaction, so instead, he started to fuck up against him, pressing and rubbing his cock against Dean’s, letting out soft moans. “Love you... love you too Dean.”

A few seconds later, Sam came. Eyes wide, filling with tears, he started to apologize. “I’m sorry Dean... I couldn’t help myself, oh God...” Despite the fact Dean was bucking up under him, trying to find release, Sam hopped off the bed, tears running down his cheeks. 

* * *

“Sammy…” Dean whimpered his brother’s name again and again, every gentle stroke of the younger boy’s hand up and down his hard cock making him tremble. It was just a hand job, but because it was _Sam_ it was so much more. He couldn’t stop moaning and trying to fuck up into the younger boy’s fist. Every stroke made it harder and harder for him to think. He didn’t even want to think anymore. He just wanted to feel this. He just wanted Sam to keep touching him…

“Oh god…. Yes… Sam… yes…” He gasped, his fingers clenching in the sheets beneath him as though he was holding on for dear life. Just imagining his baby brother’s mouth on him again, licking him, sucking him. Dean was panting harder as Sam’s hand began to move faster along his flesh yet somehow still teasing him. Intensifying his arousal without bringing him to the edge, it was the sweetest torture that Dean had ever experienced.

“Please…” Dean whimpered and then moaned as Sam pushed his finger into his mouth. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed with a groan as he began to suck and swirl his tongue around the younger boy’s finger like it was Sam’s cock. He began to buck harder, moan louder, and he didn’t care that they were in the middle of a crowded hospital where any doctor or nurse could walk in and catch them at any time. All he cared about was Sam making him come, giving him release, god, he was so hard he hurt…

He forced his eyes back open when suddenly Sam was on him, the younger boy’s hard cock sliding against his own and Dean had to bite his lip to keep from shouting as his hands moved from gripping the bed sheets to gripping Sam’s hips. He choked on his own moans at Sam’s whispered words. Telling him he loved him.

“Sammy…” Dean breathed, watching in awe as his brother came undone, he was so close himself he felt like he was balancing on a razor’s edge as he continued to buck against the younger boy. But then suddenly everything changed, Sam looked like he was on the verge of tears as he scrambled away from him, apologizing. Leaving Dean unsatisfied, but he really didn’t care about that right now, despite his body’s needs. He managed to sit up, even though he was so dizzy, from lust or sickness he didn’t know, he nearly fell out of the bed as he reached out to catch the younger boy’s wrist.

“Sam, no, please… why are you sorry? You’ve don’t have anything to be sorry for. Please, Sammy… don’t cry… I love you.”

* * *

“No you don’t.” He met his brother’s eyes. “I wish you did... then you’d send him away.”

Just like that, _it_ disappeared.

“Dean? What are you doing?” Sam asked, walking inside the hospital room and putting his arm around Dean who looked like he was trying to get out of bed. “You’re supposed to rest... what are you thinking?” He pushed him down, and repositioned the pillows.

Then he looked down the length of Dean’s body, swallowing at the sight of his brother’s erection. No he hadn’t been looking for it, but there was no way in hell he could miss it.

Trying to keep his eyes off Dean’s groin, he pulled the sheets up, all the way to Dean’s chest, his own cheeks now flushing. “Please don’t do anything to make yourself worse, please?”

He had half a mind to put the railings up, just to make sure Dean stayed put. But he could sit here and make sure he didn’t try anything.

“They.... so far they can’t find anything wrong. Some of the results will come tomorrow, but...” Sam shrugged. “They said maybe you have a flu and that the symptoms and you’re just feeling worse because of the accident.”

He didn’t believe it. Not in his gut. He touched Dean’s forehead again, then leaned over him. “Anything you haven’t told us? A pain somewhere else, maybe? Anything Dean, you gotta help us out, here.”

* * *

The words were like a knife to the gut and Dean found that he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even move as he stared into the space where his brother had been, no, the hallucination his mind had conjured up that had just reminded him what a sick fuck he really was. His arousal burned away in an instant, leaving a cold bitter hole in his chest and despite how hard and close to the edge he’d been, left unsatisfied, he began to wilt like he’d been dumped in a tub of ice.

Unfortunately not before Sam was there, his Sam, his real brother, who was helping him back into the bed. Fussing over him. But Dean was still far too shocked and numb to answer the younger boy’s questions or his concern. That was probably a good thing because otherwise Dean might have simply broken down into tears.

The worst part of it was, that the other Sam, the one he dreamed of, was right. Maybe not about sending his brother away because Dean could never do that, but because if he really loved Sam he Dean wouldn’t be… getting off… so easily on his own sick fantasies. Even if they were only in his mind. Even if they didn’t really “hurt” anyone, he still shouldn’t allow himself… it was his baby brother he was fantasizing about damn it!

His little brother, who wasn’t so little anymore, talking to him about the test results, that the doctors weren’t sure what was wrong with him. Looking at him so worried, and having absolutely no idea what a sick fuck his big brother really was. Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at Sam in the eyes as he slowly shook his head.

It’s not like he could tell his brother about the hallucinations. He could tell Sam he was seeing things, but then the younger boy would grill him endlessly on exactly what he was seeing and his brother could see through his lies more often than Dean liked. Maybe something would come back on the tests…

* * *

“Dean?” His brother looked so damned hopeless… Biting his lower lip, Sam let him go, but stood close to the bed for a while, never taking his eyes off him. Weird… he got the feeling his brother was avoiding his gaze, like he was trying to hide something. Then again, knowing Dean, he might just be hiding his pain.

He didn’t know what to do. He felt so damned helpless. Again, a voice in his head told him it might be time to call dad. Was it to that point yet? He had no clue. The docs said one thing… but Dean looked… he looked worse than he did when he came out of a hard hunt.

When his brother said nothing more, he flicked the t.v. on, if only to fill the room with some sound. Hours went by, neither of them talking. When lunch was brought to Dean, Sam had to talk him into having at least a little of it, and then he finished up the left overs. One think Sam wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer on was drinking, he made sure Dean got plenty of water.

The nose bleeds continued. They’d stop, then he could see Dean was getting dizzy or nauseous again, and then scarlet liquid would start dripping again. Frustrated by getting no answers from the doctors and staff, Sam plugged in his lap top. Thank God the hospital had a free network, because in his rush, he hadn’t packed their sim card for the lap top.

For hours, he tried to find answers, putting together everything he knew. Accident. Head injury. Nausea. Nose bleeds. Looking over at Dean, he decided to add to his list, ‘overemotional.’ He might not be going nuts, but Sam felt the undercurrent of emotions. He’d put it down to their issues, but nah, there was something more.

He looked up suddenly, and gripping Dean’s arm, asked. “Hey, you think you’ve come into contact with anything lately? Like… you know, not a disease but… What was that job you went on alone?” he asked. Neither his dad nor Dean had talked about it, other than in general terms that he’d guessed were meant to stop his questions. When that didn’t work, his dad had shut him up with a reminder that he didn’t seem all that interested when he’d first mentioned the job… yeah, cause he’d been keeping his head down and trying not to get dragged into it. “You know, the one you wouldn’t talk about. Just thinking what if… I know it’s crazy, but what if the doctors are right and this isn’t a physical thing?” 

* * *

Dean didn’t answer his brother. Sam didn’t exactly ask him a question anyway, and Dean didn’t know what to say besides. Sam thankfully didn’t push him, instead turning on the television and giving them both an excuse not to talk anymore. Not that Dean really watched the TV either, but it was still better than the silence or talking. This way he could try to forget the last words his… not his brother but still… had said to him. Not that Dean thought he ever would forget. Not again. Just how sick he really was, and he didn’t mean the reason he was in this hospital bed.

He was still feeling nauseous and not in the least bit hungry when they brought him his “lunch” if you could even call it that. At first he refused to eat, but then Dean had made the mistake of actually looking his brother in the eye as Sam tried to get him to eat just a “little” bit of it. Dean stopped arguing immediately after that and reluctantly picked up his fork. Though each mouthful had to practically be choked down.

After he had eaten about a quarter of what was on the plate he knew he simply couldn’t stomach anything more without it coming right back up. Thankfully Sam didn’t insist again and simply finished off the remainder of his food. Of course that made him feel even more guilty, if that was even possible. He almost suggested that Sam go down to the cafeteria or something and get himself something to eat, but Dean was afraid that if Sam left then he would start to see things again… but what if he started to see things while his brother was here?

Again the words echoed in his head. If he really loved Sam he’d send him away… was that what it meant? But he couldn’t… he couldn’t send Sam away… he couldn’t hurt the younger boy like that again. Pushing him away like that… he’d promised Sam he wouldn’t… that he would try to make it better.

Yeah… he was doing a great job of that…

The nosebleeds were getting annoying and making him feel light headed. Still the doctors and nurses didn’t seem all that concerned about them, just kept bringing him fresh towels whenever the next one started. Maybe he should suggest to Sam they just leave, he could lie in bed and bleed at home just fine on his own.

Dean choked on his words though before they were even out of his mouth. It was like he didn’t have any right to even speak to Sam. But after a few hours of Dean pretending to watch TV and Sam working away at his laptop, when the younger boy suggested that maybe what was happening to him had something to do with the supernatural, Dean felt himself go cold.

He stared down at Sam’s hand gripping his arm even as his mind raced. Could it? Maybe it wasn’t all in his head? Why hadn’t he thought that before? Or had he? He wasn’t sure anymore, he always got so confused… distracted…

“No, I don’t think so.” Dean finally forced out. It was a bald faced lie, but it’s not like he could tell the younger boy the truth. He could never tell Sam what he was seeing. If it really was some kind of creature and not all in his head Dean had to deal with this… it… by himself. The older boy had more than enough anger and determination to do so. Taking his brother’s form… toying with him… He just had to figure out what the hell it was and he was going to kill the son of a bitch. 

* * *

Noticing the way Dean looked at his hand, Sam immediately let go of Dean’s forearm. He didn’t want to let go of the subject, he wanted to explore it further, but he recognized the stubborn look Dean was wearing. And they said Sam was the stubborn one. “Maybe we should think about it. Explore it… possibilities, brainstorm…”

He trailed off when Dean’s reaction remained essentially unchanged. Yeah, Dean thought he was he was making up crap, or was grasping at straws. He was the expert, he and dad, and Sam knew nothing. Right.

He tried not to be hurt. Nah, he was angry, not hurt. This was just another example of not taking him seriously, wanting him to be part of ‘their team’ but yet never really treating him like he could add a lot of value. Not that he wanted them to think otherwise… hell, it would make leaving easier. When the time came.

His gaze slid to his brother, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to see him like this. Pale. Weak. _Defeated._. He swore to himself that if Dean got any worse, he was calling dad. Bowing his head, he went back to work on the lap top.

Hours passed. Thirst had him looking up at the clock. Sure he’d had Dean’s juice, but it was midnight now. Pulling out of the chair, he set the lap top on it and stretched. “I’m gonna stretch my legs and get something from the soda machine. I’ll get you something too.”

He walked out the door, rubbing his eyes as he headed down the long hall. The cafeteria, with its vending machines was on the basement level. He’d take the stair, just for the exercise. 


	6. Chapter 6

  


Sam had let it go rather quickly, and maybe that should have worried Dean, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth right now. His brother went back to working on his laptop, leaving Dean to his thoughts as he tried to "brainstorm" like the younger man had suggested. Trying to come up with possible ideas of what it could be. Something that could appear and vanish without a trace at will. Something that could change forms. Something that could read his mind, knew exactly what he wanted, exactly what his worst fears were. Then, of course, there was the sex...

The first thing that came to Dean's mind was a Succubus, but Succubae were all female. Maybe some other kind of demon? Something similar?

Even as Dean tried to come up with some answers in his own head he felt his eyes growing heavy despite how he tried to stay awake. It was a losing battle however and eventually he slept. Waking up what had to be hours later by the scrape of his brother's chair along the floor as Sam stood up.

"Okay." Dean answered a little groggily, giving the younger boy a nod, and watching Sam leave his room. He almost expected... it... to show up as soon as the younger boy left. It had before, but it didn't. Maybe if it knew he was on to it now it would be more careful, or better yet, leave all together. That was probably wishful thinking though.

Dean's eyes fell on the chair that his brother had vacated and the laptop sitting on it. After only a moment's thought he leaned over and grabbed it. Sam probably wouldn't be gone long, but he could at least try to start his own research, if he could just get a better idea of what he might be dealing with.

The search was actually surprisingly short. Dean just typed in two simple words: Male Succubus, not really knowing where else to begin but a result came back immediately.

An Incubus...

* * *

After chatting with the nurses for just a little while and finding out the time that the doctors were expected in the morning, Sam made his way back to Dean’s room. Finding him using his lap top, he smiled. “This is so not the time for porn.” Yeah… the way he’d found Dean earlier, really not the time for it. But he was happy that Dean was actually doing something. He’d barely watched t.v. and not spoken a whole lot. This was the first time Sam had seen him actually engaged by anything since this morning.

Dropping down into his seat, he pulled the tab off a soda can and set it down on the table that went across Dean’s bed, where he now had the lap top. Then he opened the other and took a long drink, quenching his thirst. “You look a little better. Maybe… maybe you’re getting better.” He still looked pale, but there hadn’t been bleeding in a while, and his eyes looked a bit more animated rather than glazed over.

“This better not be your way of getting out of going to the lake… I still expect you to take me,” he said, not hiding his smile. That was a long way off. Dean had to get better, then the car would need to be repaired. Maybe dad would be back by then and his fun trip would definitely be shot in the ass by the elder Winchester. 

* * *

Dean read up as much on Incubi as he could in the short time that Sam was gone. Unfortunately he didn’t come across much more than basic lore and no information on how to get rid of one or kill one. Maybe the same things that could kill a succubus would kill an incubus? But that was really a shot in the dark, though they were similar in that they used sex to drain their victims of their life force there were plenty of differences too. He could try to kill it and end up only pissing it off… generally pissing off any supernatural creature was a bad thing.

So far it had only come to him in the form of his little brother. Dean really didn’t want to see the thing in its true form with no way to kill it.

When Sam returned he was so caught up in his research that he didn’t even realize his brother was there for a couple of moments. Dean quickly closed out the pages he was looking at before the younger boy returned to the chair he’d vacated earlier. He smiled a little in thanks for the soda and took a drink from it, he just realized his throat was pretty dry. Sam had been making him drink but it probably hadn’t been enough.

“Maybe.” Dean said off handedly to his brother’s observation that he was looking better, yeah, he was feeling better too. He knew that had to be because he hadn’t had a visit from the incubus for a while. Dean was a little surprised it hadn’t shown up while Sam was gone. Maybe it had decided to take off on its own after all? Having a hunter for lunch was pretty dangerous, especially if that hunter was on to you, Dean could hope…

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes a little at Sam’s comment about the lake.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing.” The older boy said sarcastically, but not in a mean way. “I promised I’d take you didn’t I? So I’ll take you.”

Dean gave his brother a more genuine smile. Once he killed that son of a bitch incubus he was looking forward to him and Sam just hanging out, making things better between them. He’d promised, after all, and he’d meant it. 

* * *

“Yup... you will,” Sam agreed, making it sound like a threat. He could be like a dog with a bone. “You done with the... or you can play with it,” he said, assuming Dean was looking at porn. It was a good sign.

But as he sat down, he wished he hadn’t thought of porn and Dean in the same sentence. He couldn’t help remembering the kissing in bed and that had his cheeks burning. Steadfastly, he looked up at the television and took a drink of his soda.

*

By the time the doctors came in the late morning, Sam was so damned tired you’d think he’d been up all night. He’d slept, but it hadn’t been comfortable in the chair. Then there were the nurses who came in and out checking on Dean, waking both of ‘em up all night long.

And now the doctors were saying there was nothing wrong with Dean, that he should go home and just get some rest. The nose bleeds were from the weather. Sam was pissed but there was nothing he could do, especially once Dean started to agree with them.

*

A couple hours later, they’d gotten a ride from one of the nurses who had finished her shift. Sam had given Dean a look when she offered. It was clear she was interested, and after helping to get Dean to bed, she offered to come back at night, on her way back to the hospital.

Arms crossed, leaning against the wall, Sam waited to hear his brother’s answer.

* * *

Dean was exhausted. Sleeping in a hospital always sucked, but with Sam there, the real Sam, he hadn’t had any more unwelcome “visitors” in his hospital room. Unless he counted the eighty year old nurse that kept waking them both up practically every hour when she came to “check up” on him. Really, why couldn’t hospitals have more hot nurses like on TV?

Of course Dean wasn’t at all surprised when his doctor came in the next morning to tell him he was fine. Even though he already knew his symptoms weren’t from the crash it was still a bit of a relief to hear it confirmed. Once he got rid of that damned incubus he should be fine in no time then.

He could tell his brother was pissed off by the doctor’s diagnosis though, probably only made worse because the younger boy was cranky from lack of sleep because of that damned un-hot nurse. Dean did his best to smooth his brother’s ruffled feathers though, reassuring Sam he was feeling better anyway, there was no reason they couldn’t go home now if the doctors said he was fine.

At least they’d managed to find a pretty hot nurse to take them both home so they didn’t need to call a cab and waste their ever dwindling money supply. Missing another day of work was the last thing on his mind right now unfortunately. He could worry about scrounging up some spare cash for them once he got rid of the incubus if it hadn’t split on its own already.

Even though he _was_ feeling better he was still a little weak and unsteady so he accepted Sam’s and the Julie’s (the hot nurse) help getting him inside and back to bed. Her offer to come back later… definitely tempting… but one look at his brother’s bitch face made Dean forget about even considering accepting.

“Thanks, but our dad will probably be home by tonight. Maybe some other time though.” Dean said, giving her one of his most “sincere” regretful smiles as he could. 

* * *

Sam rolled his eyes. How was it every other girl fell for his brother, whether he was ill and looking like shit or his normal looking like shit self? _Anyone who kisses like that..._ Eyes widening at the unbidden thought, he tried to shove it away. Not like the nurse would know Dean's kissing style before she tried it out. Then he thought about how he shouldn't even be thinking about Dean's kissing style.

After he walked the nurse out and locked the door, he was back in the room with Dean, standing in the doorway. "Do you want to watch some t.v.? Or should I let ya sleep?" He smiled, "or if you can't sleep but want to, I could bring you one of my books."

* * *

Dean was glad that the nurse didn’t seem upset, at his answer. Disappointed maybe, but not upset. Really, if he didn’t have bigger things to think about right now he probably would have taken her up on her offer, if only to take the edge off his want for Sam. That’s all it seemed to do, sex with other people, take the edge off. Never made the want go away completely.

No reason the damned incubus chose to appear to him as Sam. Dean tried really hard not to think about how it had felt like to touch Sam’s skin finally, to taste him finally, even if it wasn’t real. It was as close as he’d ever gotten to what he needed, and as close to feeling satisfied as he’d felt in a while. Even when the damned thing was toying with him, leaving him hard and aching more than half the time.

His thoughts were mercifully cut off when his brother returned, and he smiled at the younger boy’s offer to watch TV with him. But he could tell Sam was just as tired as he was, and even if Sam wasn’t, Dean needed to do some more research on that incubus. Maybe Dad would have some information here he could use.

“I don’t think sleeping is gonna be a problem, and you gotta be as beat as I am. I’ll call work and get some sleep. You should too.”

* * *

“Okay, yeah, I am tired,” Sam agreed. “I’m gonna get you some water.” In the kitchen, he almost whistled. Dean did look better. A lot better, even if the hospital hadn’t really done anything special. He had some more color in him, and he was a lot more… if not lucid, then ‘with it’ was the phrase he was looking for. Yeah, his brother was on the mend.

Returning to Dean’s room, he set the talk glass of water down, then almost self consciously climbed over Dean to get to the other side of the bed. “Wake me up if you need anything,” he said. He’d decided he wouldn’t leave Dean alone cause what if the fever came back, or he started bleeding again? Rolling on his side, giving his brother his back, he closed his eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep.

*

_It_ was near the end of its tether, waiting for Dean to be alone. Unable to wait any longer, it dropped into the room, naked, and on all fours, facing away from Dean. He looked over his shoulder at his brother. “Dean, I need you,” he whispered, stretching and arching his back.

He could feel need building inside Dean, but some resistance as well. He couldn’t allow that, couldn’t let him regain ground. Biting his lip, he moved his hand to his cock and started stroking. His brother couldn’t see everything, but just enough to kick start his hormones and allow the addiction to grip him again.

Whimpering, he pleaded. “Really need you Dean. Want you… please, like you showed me before.” Biting his lip, he stroked himself a few more times, then he started to crawl to the door. Gripping the door frame, he stood up, still showing Dean only his back. His shoulders shook. He turned, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Hurts Dean… when you don’t touch me. When you push me away… when you look away. What have I done? Do you want me to leave?”

Without waiting for an answer, he walked out.

* * *

Before Dean could protest that he didn’t need any water Sam was already gone and he sighed a little and shrugged to himself. Sam seemed determined to play nurse maid but he couldn’t really feel all that upset by it. In fact, it made him feel good knowing that Sam cared about him enough to wait on him when he was sick. Dean smiled a little. He’d put up with it a few more days before he told Sam to cut it out. So when the younger boy returned, Dean merely smiled and said, “Thanks, Sammy.”

Though when his brother proceeded to practically climb over him to get to the other side of the bed, Dean’s heart did a little flip flop. He’d expected Sam to go back to his room now that he was obviously feeling better. He was going to wait a little while to make sure that Sam was asleep before he got up to do more research on the incubus. Researching while Sam was sleeping next to him… not going to be easy. What would he say if Sam woke up and asked him what he was doing? Dean could only use the porn excuse so many times. Even a teenager couldn’t get it up _that_ often.

Dean sighed a little as he looked at Sam get settled and then he relaxed back against the pillows as well. He guessed he could actually rest for a little while after all while Sam slept. If he was feeling better later on he could tell Sam that and maybe the younger boy would let up on his “watch”. Dean was kind of tired anyway.

So he closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep. Figuring while Sam was there he’d at least get an uninterrupted sleep… wasn’t the first time he’d been wrong.

He’d been drifting off when a powerful surge of arousal hit him out of the blue and Dean knew instantly that it was there. It was getting bolder, showing up while Sam was sleeping right _next_ to him. It was hungry. That didn’t bode well for him.

But even as he thought all these things, as he pushed himself up to look at it he couldn’t stop his breath from hitching in his throat. Jesus fuck… Seeing Sam on the floor on all floors, his perfect pale ass towards him, just begging to be fucked. Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from moaning at the sight of Sam’s fingers playing over his cock and balls. His dick was already hardening even as he told himself over and over that it wasn’t Sam. It wasn’t his brother it was a monster. Sam was sleeping right next to him… and what would Sam think if he woke up to see that thing? Looking like him and Dean already so hard he was pitching a tent underneath the sheets.

Dean swallowed hard, watching as it stood slowly, turned to look at him and Dean felt his heart clench painfully seeing Sam’s tears even though a part of him knew it wasn’t Sam. That part was slowly fading into the back of his mind though. The knowledge this thing wasn’t Sam becoming buried under lust so strong he couldn’t feel anything else. Not weakness, not sickness, only need. He needed Sam and Sam… needed him…

_No, don’t leave…_ He tried to say but he couldn’t get the words past the tightening in his throat. Instead Dean pushed aside the covers and stood. Not caring in the least how unsteady he was. Simply following Sam. 

* * *

Leaving the room, Sam... _it_... threw its head back in pleasure at Dean's arousal crashing over him. Yes he was fighting, yes he wanted to deny him, but Dean was losing the battle. Losing it bad. Needing him... this so bad, the youth would go mad if he didn't have him.

Touching himself as he walked, he headed straight for the kitchen table. Moving his forearm over it, he cleared it of papers and weapons, then crawled on top of it. On his knees, he crouched down to his elbows, moving one hand between his legs and stroking his shaft, moaning the instant he heard Dean walk in behind him.

The window was open. Sam turned his head toward it, licking his lips. "Sometimes... sometimes Mr. Totten, neighbor... he watches with his binoculars." Desire and jealousy... that would make for an explosive combination. Dean Winchester had left him hungry and now he would pay twice over. "Saw him once at my window... his hand was in his pants," he said. "Dean... it made me hard, even when it was you I was thinking of. Is that alright?" Brilliant blue-green eyes turned to meet his brother's.

* * *

Dean followed Sam into the kitchen. He had no idea what the hell the younger boy wanted there, and truth was, he didn’t really care as long as he got what _he_ wanted. His dick was so damned hard it was making it even more difficult for him to walk.

When he finally reached the kitchen, seeing Sam laid out on the table with his ass high in the air, any remaining blood that hadn’t already rushed to his cock made its way quickly there. Holy fuck, he’d never seen anything so sinfully beautiful. So perverted and perfect. Sam waiting for him, moaning and touching himself. The younger boy giving him the absolute perfect view of his ass and his tight little hole Dean wanted nothing more than to plunge his fingers deep into, opening Sam up to take his cock.

Dean had no idea whether or not his brother’s words regarding their neighbor were true. Something in the back of his mind told him they were probably a lie, but he didn’t fucking care right now. Just the idea of some old pervert watching Sammy, getting off on watching his little brother, and Sam _liking_ it.

Rage flashed through him so hot he practically shook with it. He crossed the distance between him and Sam in a few quick steps and he grasped his brother’s hips with a growl.

“No, it’s not all right.” Dean hissed as he pulled his brother back against him, forcing Sam’s hips to the edge of the table, and pressed himself down over the younger boy’s back at the same time. As his hands roamed all over his brother’s body like he owned it, he rubbed his crotch against the younger boy’s ass. The light hospital pants he was still wearing barely a barrier, his cock fitting easily between Sam’s soft cheeks. Dean bit at the soft flesh of his brother’s shoulder, licking soothingly over the marks he’d made, and then bit the younger boy again a little higher on his neck. Working his way up until he reached Sam’s ear. “You’re mine.”

* * *

As Dean's emotions spiked, so did Sam's pleasure. A deep groan broke from him as Dean was uncharacteristically brutal, pulling him roughly to the edge of the table, hands roaming his body, possessively biting into his tender flesh, reminding him who he belonged to.

He felt Dean's cock, unbelievably hard with built up and unreleased need from all of the sexual torture since his brother had taken to watching him like a hawk, pressing insistently between his ass cheeks, and groaned. Once Dean was inside him, he was sure the hunter would be gone to this world… he'd be all his. He'd never be able to give up his drug… he'd kill for him, even kill that little brother he loved so much.

"Dean… " he moaned, as he was bitten on the shoulder then throat, a thrill running through him at Dean's insistent 'mine.' "Yes, yes I'm yours… but you weren't here… you didn't want me then, and he did," he started to cry. "He looked at me the way I wanted you to. That's why I liked it Dean. I imagined your eyes when he stared so hard, and your hand when he reached in his pants and asked me to show him more."

He moved back, nudging his ass against Dean's arousal, grinding against him. "Make me forget him. Make _us_ forget him, Dean. Please…" he turned his head, his mouth seeking Dean's. "Need you to fuck me… fuck him out of my mind. Please."

* * *

Dean groaned, his fingers digging a little deeper into Sam’s soft flesh.

“ _Always_ wanted you, Sammy. Always…” He growled possessively in the younger boy’s ear. Rubbing his cock harder against Sam’s perfect virgin ass and groaning his pleasure and need into his brother’s mouth as he took the younger boy’s lips in a scorching kiss. His tongue forcing his way into Sam’s mouth as his hands slid up his brother’s torso, pulling Sam upright and back against his chest. Forcing Sam to lean back against him as his hands slid possessively all over the younger boy’s front. Toying with and pinching his brother’s nipples till they were hard little nubs before sliding his hands down.

Oh yes. He was going to fuck Sam. He was going to fuck his little brother and make him his. Any old pervert looking in on them was going to know just what a sick fucked up family they really had when they watched his little brother taking his cock up his ass. But they were going to also know that Sam was _his_ and only his!

Dean’s fingers curled around his brother’s hard weeping cock. Stroking the younger boy hard and fast while he continued to rub his trapped erection between those hot perfect ass cheeks. The front of his pants growing damp from his own leaking fluids, and he moaned his pleasure into the younger boy’s mouth with abandon.

Finally Dean broke their kiss and pushed the younger boy back down so that he was spread out on the table once more. Moaning at the sight, his touches morphed quickly from rough to gentle as he ran his now sticky wet fingers down the length of Sam’s back. Sliding boldly over the cheeks of his brother’s ass and then even more tenderly between them. His fingers eagerly finding the younger boy’s hot puckered hole and moaning as he circled his brother’s opening with the tip of one slick finger.

“Relax for me, baby brother. Relax and I’ll be inside of you soon.” Dean whispered soothingly, caressing up and down the younger boy’s back as he slowly pushed his finger into Sam’s willing body. 

* * *

Raising his arm, Sam managed to hook it behind Dean’s head, with made it easier to kiss and be kissed at that angel. Dean’s kisses were an inferno of emotions. Desire. Need. Love. Jealousy. The beginnings of a claiming. Sam writhed at the things Dean’s hands were doing to his body, while his mouth was taken, over and over by Dean’s tongue. Sounds broke from him, loud... getting louder, even though he was aware of the need for quiet.

Then Dean’s cock was lodged between his ass cheeks, moving up and down, and his brother’s calloused palm was riding his cock. “Oh ... oh God, De... Dean,” Sam practically shouted, falling back against his brother as a shudder shook him from head to toe.

He could feel the wet material rubbing against his ass, knew Dean was getting close to the point of no return. He whimpered. “Need you ... need something Dean... please... please, he moved restlessly, fucking his brother’s palm. “Don’t stop...”

Then he was pushed back down on the table, on his forearms. He felt Dean touch him in a place he hadn’t dared to before. A whimper broke from him as he turned his head to watch his brother. Then Dean was pushing his finger inside and Sam reached behind him and grabbed Dean’s arm. “Mmn... Dean... don’t know... don’t know...” he chanted, but his body moved back and forth, so that he was fucking himelf on Dean’s finger, playing both on his brother’s fears and lusts at the same time. “Dean... want... don’t know... Dean...” he cried out.

* * *

Dean froze instantly when Sam’s hand gripped his arm, stopping him from pushing his finger any deeper into the younger boy’s body… but also preventing him from pulling back. His heart was hammering so hard against his ribs he was afraid it might break free any second. Guilt and lust warring inside of him. He shouldn’t… he shouldn’t be doing this… it was wrong to touch Sam this way. So very wrong… he shouldn’t… Sam didn’t want him to, his brother had stopped him…

But the younger boy was also moving his hips back and forth, taking Dean’s finger into his body, fucking himself. So hot… so fucking tight and hot. Feeling that exquisite tight heat had Dean’s dick throbbing so painfully hard he moaned with more pain than pleasure now. Sam didn’t want him to stop, he was just unsure. Dean would show him it was ok, show him how good it could feel.

The older boy leaned forward, running his hand possessively up and down the length of his brother’s back. Encouraging the trembling muscles to relax. He laid himself over Sam’s back, pressing his erection against the younger boy’s hip as he wiggled his finger a little inside his brother’s body. Pressing tender kisses to the back of Sam’s neck.

“It’s ok, it’s gonna feel good, so good, Sammy. Just relax…” He whispered, drawing his finger out and pushing a little deeper. Curling the digit to search out the special place within Sam that would make his brother whimper and moan even more.

Dean began to kiss his way down his brother’s back, following the line of his spine. His tongue darting out occasionally to taste the sweat slick skin. Not stopping even when he reached the perfect swell of the younger boy’s buttocks. His tongue sliding between those perfect cheeks, holding Sam open with his other hand as his finger continued to slowly push in and out of that tight hole.

“Gonna make you feel so good, Sammy. Nice and wet for me, baby brother.” Dean whispered, his hot breath ghosting over the tight puckered flesh. His tongue finally darting out to lick around that enticing hole, opening Sam up with his finger and tongue. 

* * *

Sam’s whimpering died down as Dean stroked his back and spoke reassuring words in his ear. He managed to nod. “Want to feel good,” he agreed, his voice more breath than sound as he kept rocking back against Dean’s finger.

Then Dean touched him in a spot that made him moan and practically faint. He turned to look at Dean, eyes wide with questions, he licked his lips, shuddering when he felt Dean’s tongue join that finger inside him. “Good... yes... Dean, that... that feels good,” he managed, pushing back, trying to get more.

It went like that for a while, with Sam’s motions become bolder as he tried to get more of Dean in him, more of tongue, more of that finger. “Need... oh God,” shivering, Sam reached for his own cock and started stroking to the rhythm of Dean’s finger, started making noises, almost demanding, “please ... what you said... please... need something, need _you_.”

_It_ Wanted, needed Dean to fall, fall for his brother, fall for his brother's needs, give in... fall to his own dark and forbidden desires, family be damned, father be damned, society be damned, future be damned... This moment, the need to fuck his brother would be so strong, he couldn't fight it, wouldn't... he'd push his aching cock deep into young Sam's ass and get what he needed, and _it_ would make sure of it by whipping up his lust, making it reach uncontrollable heights... no one could resist, certainly no boy just past his teenage years.

"Dean! Please!" Sam plead, almost on the verge of a shout.

* * *

It was so hard not to simply blow his wad like an adolescent teenager getting their dick touched for the first time. Between the sounds Sam was making, how tight and hot the younger boy was around his invading tongue and finger, and the way his brother was eagerly pushing back into his face and hand, Dean was already so close to coming his dick felt like it was going to explode. But, damn it, he wasn't going to come like this! The only place he was coming this time was deep inside his baby brother while Sam whimpered and clenched around him.

That's why when Sam asked for more, Dean didn't think about going slow or giving his brother as much time as the virgin boy probably needed to get used to him. He pulled his finger out of Sam, his tongue thrusting as deep as it could in its place while he reached down to his own cock. Finally pushing the sopping wet material down to his thighs, freeing himself. Groaning as he slicked up his fingers again before returning them to Sam's hole. Pushing two inside, working them deep and stretching his brother as much as he could in as short a time as possible.

Dean knew that two fingers probably wasn't enough, but he simply couldn't wait anymore. He was panting and shaking with need when he finally drew back. The sight of Sam's wet hole with his fingers shoved so deep inside of him making him groan again and he had to use his other hand to grip the base of his dick hard.

"Gonna give you what you need, Sammy. Don't worry." Dean whispered huskily as he drew his fingers out of Sam's tight body and positioned his cock at his brother's entrance. He was already so slick from his own fluids he didn't bother lubing himself up anymore.

"Relax for me, baby brother, and I'll give you what you need." Dean groaned, grasping Sam's hip to steady the younger boy as he began to push inside of his brother. Still holding the base of his dick tightly to keep himself from coming from the feel of that tight ring of muscles slowly opening up for him and finally, _finally_ , velvet heat surrounding his cock in the most exquisite pleasure imaginable.

"Oh god, Sammy… oh god…" The older boy muttered under his breath over and over as he slowly sheathed himself into his brother. He didn't think he could have stopped now even if he wanted to.

* * *

“Mmmph... Dean...” Sam almost collapsed forward, and it was only his brother’s tight grip that held him in place. So hot, so hard... finally inside him, finally so deep that Dean would never want to leave leave him... would die for him... would leave everyone and everything else behind for another taste of this, and another.

Shivering around the cock splitting him in two, Sam squeezed, throwing his head back at the burn. “So big Dean... I can feel you all the way... oh God...” he took a couple of loud breaths. “Hurts... hurts so good Dean, please do something... oh God, I don’t know what to do... please,” he turned his head to the side, biting into Dean’s shoulder as he started to move against him, banging his ass against Dean’s hips, needing him to grind... to fuck.

_Come one... fuck. Fuck..._ Wild with hunger and desire, Sam writhed uncontrollably, demanding everything Dean could give him, demanding it now.

* * *

Sammy was already so damned tight he knew he should have been afraid he was really hurting the younger boy, and a part of him was, but at the same time he simply couldn’t think beyond the exquisite forbidden pleasure he was experiencing. So damned hot. So damned tight. So damned perfect. An almost pained moan was ripped from his throat when he felt Sam’s body tighten around him even more. Fuck, he knew it would be good, but he never imagined…

“Fuck Sammy…” Dean whispered, his fingers flexing on the younger boy’s hips. He needed to move so damned badly, needed to draw out and plunge even deeper into his brother’s tight willing body, riding the younger boy till they were both screaming out in pleasure. But he felt frozen in place, almost paralyzed. He needed this so damned badly but he couldn’t hurt Sam. He couldn’t…

When his brother whimpered beneath him that it hurt, Dean’s heart froze for an instant only to beat triple time when Sam said it was good. Begging him to do something. Grinding his hips back against him and Dean was lost. He started to move, drawing out and pushing into Sam with as slow shallow thrusts as he could manage. Holding Sam’s hips tightly as he angled his hips to drag his cock across that special place inside his brother over and over. Trying to loosen Sam up, trying to make it good, trying not to hurt Sam.

He couldn’t hurt Sam, he would never hurt Sam, he’d made it good.

But desire was rushing through his veins like hot acid, burning away everything else, every other thought, every other need, and all he wanted and needed was this. He started drawing out further, thrusting in deeper, faster. He couldn’t stop. He needed this so much. He needed to fuck Sam, fill his little brother up till his come was dripping out of the younger boy’s ass, and he wanted his brother to love every minute of it.

“Oh god, Sam. So good. Fuck… yeah… Sammy…” Dean grunted. The sound of hot skin slapping together and the table scraping across the floor a little with every one of his thrusts was so fucking hot. Dean rolled his hips, releasing Sam’s hip to reach around and take his brother’s cock in hand, stroking the younger boy in time with his deep thrusts. “Oh yeah… come on, Sammy… so good…”

* * *

“Ungh… Ungh…” Sam’s head jerked back each time Dean pounded into him with wild abandon, like he’d dreamed of it a thousand times and was finally allowed at to touch… to have the forbidden candy, like nothing mattered as much as easing the desire that burned, consumed him for so long. “Yes… please more, Dean… please…” he pleaded, fucking back against his brother’s hips, taking him inside his body, giving out cries of both pleasure and pain. _So good, so good, Dean’s pain, Dean’s desire, Dean’s love, Dean’s need… all of it._

Once Dean’s fingers closed around his cock, Sam leaned back a little, as far as he could, one hand still on the table, the other grabbing for Dean. Trying to touch him, to encourage him, to enflame him beyond a human’s capacity, to make him like a wild animal, riding on instinct, unable to think beyond the one single need. “Ungh… ungh… Dean,” Sam’s teeth rattled at the pressure with which his brother was coming at him, merciless, driven, needy. _Yes, oh yes, give it to me Dean Winchester, everything you have… give it to me… give it to your bother._

Sam’s hand slipped over Dean’s, as they pumped his cock together. He turned his face to the side, “need more Dean. Don’t hold back, please… need… ache… want… make me come… make me, Dean. Deaaan!!!”

* * *

The sounds his little brother was making every time Dean pounded into him went straight to his cock, making him even harder, if that was even possible, making him burn even hotter. As hot as the fires of hell surely for wanting this, needing it so damned badly, and finally taking it…

“Sammy… Sammy…” Dean panted the younger boy’s name like a desperate prayer over and over. Giving Sam what he wanted. More. Everything. Everything he was. It was all Sam’s. His body belonged to Sam. His soul belonged to Sam. His life… everything…

Dean’s hand on Sam’s hip slid up to his chest, resting over the younger boy’s pounding heart, holding his brother against him. His lips captured Sam’s when his brother turned his face towards him. Swallowing those sweet needy cries, his own becoming lost in his brother’s mouth. His thrusts into the younger boy’s body practically lifted Sam off of his feet and it was a miracle they were able to remain upright. When Sam begged for even more his fingers tightened around his brother’s hard weeping flesh, stroking the younger boy harder, faster.

So close… so close…

His little brother practically screaming his name, in pain or pleasure Dean wasn’t even sure anymore, was enough to push the older boy over the point of no return. Every muscle in his body clenched and bucked and he nearly bit off his own tongue biting off the scream that erupted from his throat as he came. His balls emptying everything they had into his brother’s sweet clenching hole. His vision going completely white, leaving him breathless, weak, and shaking. If someone could actually go insane with pleasure he thought he might right now. It was the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced and through every intense spasm he continued to whisper his brother’s name over and over.

“Sammy…”

* * *

Each cry of 'Sam' brought Sam closer to release as he echoed with Dean's name on his lips, fucking Dean's fist, moving erratically, needing it... this. Then just as Dean came deep inside him, Sam fell apart in his arms, ropes of come coating Dean's fist, dripping onto the table.

_He_ fed and fed on Dean's emotions, on his lust, on the intensity of his need and his glorious release. Dean's life essence pumped into him, so delicious, so beautiful, he would be sad when all that was left was Dean's dying husk.

Sam whimpered, reaching back, touching any part of Dean he could reach. His breaths came in gasps. "We did it... did it Dean... was good. Hurts.. and tired... but good." He licked his lips, laying flat on the table with Dean's weight on him, still panting. "Don't want to move, ever." Over his shoulder, he petted Dean's short spikey hair, wriggling a little under him. "Dean?" He paused, "Does this mean you're mine now?"

*

Sam woke to an empty bed. He'd dreamed he heard Dean calling him over and over again, but not like he was ordering him around. It was different, and it had Sam all hot and hard, and thinking about that damned kiss. Was he ever going to be able to forget it? The more he told himself to put it out of his mind, the more it refused to go. It found him when he was in the bathroom alone, or when he was daydreaming, or now... when he was dreaming dreaming, dammit.

Stretching, he licked his lips. Then he did hear his name for real, and pulled himself out of the bed. Padding out of the bedroom and out the hall, he saw Dean with his shorts at his feet, laying naked bent onto the dining room table, like he couldn't take another step. "Dean?!"

He rushed to him, putting his hand on his brother's forehead, thinking Dean had been so hot he'd tried to strip, and then had fallen and couldn't get the energy to get up off the table. "Talk to me, Dean?" There was only a slight temperature, but unsure, Sam leaned in and touched his mouth to Dean's forehead.

* * *

Dean's arms gave out with whatever was left of his strength and he collapsed heavily on Sam's sweaty bare back. His cock still pulsing, buried deep inside the younger boy, and it felt like his life was draining out of him rather than just his seed. That sent warning bells off in the back of his mind but they were faint at best. He simply couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus, on anything but Sam. He simply didn't... care.

Good... yes, so good... he didn't want to move, he just wanted to stay like this, with Sam, forever...

He felt the soft fingers in his hair, heard his the younger boy's sweet question, and smiled weakly against the back of his brother's neck. Yes... he was Sam's... he'd always been Sam's...

Then... he must have blacked out for a few moments or something because everything was different. His front was cold where he rested against the bare wood of the table instead of the warm skin of his brother's back. His whole body felt cold in fact which seemed... odd... considering how hot it had been these last several days. He definitely noticed he wasn't buried snugly inside the younger boy's tight warm body anymore.

Sam... where?

He thought he heard Sam's voice behind him. Calling his name. Dean tried to shift his weight, to push off of the table, but his body simply refused to move. He felt so fucking tired. So weak... and so damned cold... He thought he felt Sam's fingers brush gently over his forehead, followed not long after by his brother's sweet lips. Dean managed a small smile as he tried to drag open his eyes. It was almost more effort than it was worth, and even once he'd gotten them open they kept trying to close again. He was so fucking tired...

But Sam had asked him...

"Always... yours..." He managed in a small whisper, barely above a breath, but Sam didn't look pleased by his answer. He looked... scared. Why was Sam scared? Dean tried again to push himself up from the table, trying to figure out what had scared his brother, it was his job to protect Sam after all. But his arms simply wouldn't support his weight, and neither would his legs for that matter. He felt his knees buckling and gravity pulling him down and he simply didn't have the strength to fight it.

* * *

"Dean!" Sam leaned in more, grabbing his brother's waist more tightly, suddenly not giving a shit that Dean was bare assed. Gritting his teeth, he summoned up all of his strength to keep Dean from hitting the ground. "Come on... Dean, just a couple steps," he said, slowly half carrying half dragging his brother toward the bedroom. He'd been fine... he'd been getting better, and that's why Sam had let himself sleep. If he'd known... Guilt washed over him, and worsened as he looked at Dean's pale features, watching him struggle to even give him the little assistance he was by putting one foot in front of the other.

It seemed like it took forever, but he got to the bed and dropped Dean down, unsuccessfully trying to break or slow down his fall. "You alright, Dean ... sorry! I'm sorry, Dean?" His brother's eyes were open and he was nodding, but Sam was as scared as he'd been when he'd called the ambulance yesterday. "I'm gonna make em fix you," he promised, getting Dean tucked into the bed, wondering if he'd been hot or why he was undressed like this. He didn't pull the blankets up, just the sheets, and then he had Dean drink a little water.

Walking across to the other side of the room with the cell phone in hand, he dialed his dad. Course no one answered... why the hell should that surprise him. He couldn't think straight enough to compose a message so he just hung up and walked back.

Leaning over Dean, he looked him in the eyes and pushed even the short hair on his forehead back, trying to see if he had a temperature and finding none. "What were you doing up? Why didn't you wake me if you needed something? Dean... you're really sick, and I'm not exaggerating." He took a deep breath. "I called dad, but he's not picking up ... I don't know what to do. I'm thinking call the ambulance again."

* * *

Walking was definitely a skill that most people took for granted, Dean decided as Sam practically had to drag him down the hall back to the bedroom. He wasn’t even really sure how the younger boy managed it. Though Sam was gaining on him in height, his brother didn’t have the muscle mass that Dean had. He could feel the younger boy straining to keep him from hitting the ground and it was probably a testament to Sam’s stubborn will that the younger boy managed to get him back to the bed at least before letting him drop.

Unfortunately without Sam’s support, Dean’s body completely refused to cooperate and he hit the bed like a stone. Grunting a little when he landed but at least it was a soft surface rather than the floor, and at least Sam hand managed to get him turned around so he landed on his back instead of face planting.

Dean blinked blearily up at the younger boy as Sam apologized to him. He wasn’t even sure why his brother was apologizing. Was he all right? Dean managed a small nod, even though they both knew it was a bald faced lie. He was about as far from all right as he could get without losing a limb or having a gaping wound in his chest, or something.

At least some of the fog in Dean’s brain was beginning to clear. Not much, but a little. It was probably Sam’s fear that was helping with that. If Dean had been by himself, he probably would have simply let himself fall unconscious on the floor of the kitchen and not gave a damned. But Sam needed him, and he would never leave his brother alone, so Dean forced himself to stay awake. Forced the rusty wheels in his head to start turning again, trying to figure out what had happened to him.

At first all he could think about as he stared at his brother across the room was the beautiful younger boy naked and crying out in pleasure, begging for him, as Dean fucked him across the dining room table. Maybe Dean had just tired himself out? Pushed himself too hard making love to his brother? That’s why Sam looked so worried, even guilty? Because he thought it was his fault Dean was sick again?

Dean tried to give the younger boy a soft, reassuring smile when his brother came back over to him. Touching his hair, and Dean couldn’t help but close his eyes and sigh a little at the feeling of Sam touching him. It felt so good… it wasn’t Sam’s fault. He would be fine, soon he wouldn’t be sick anymore, and he could make love to Sam even better… But then his brother was asking him what he’d been doing? Dean opened his eyes again, confusion and exhaustion swimming in them, fighting for control.

Then the fog cleared a little bit more… of course Sam didn’t know what he’d been doing… because it wasn’t Sam. It looked like Sam, felt like Sam, Dean had wanted it to be Sam… but it wasn’t. It was… an incubus… and Dean had fallen under its spell again. That’s why he felt so bad now. So sick… the fucker had probably drained him nearly dry…

God damn it…

When Sam mentioned calling the ambulance again, Dean finally managed to move. Reaching out to grasp his brother’s wrist, to stop Sam from leaving and he shook his head, struggling to speak.

“Don’t… don’t go…” He finally managed. He wasn’t going to be able to stay conscious for much longer. But he had to tell Sam. It wouldn’t come as long as Sam was watching him. That would break the illusion. “Don’t… let me… go…” 

* * *

"I"m not going anywhere Dean," Sam answered, growing even more worried when Dean followed by asking that Sam not let him go. What did that mean? Like he was gonna die or something? No, no way, no way Dean was gonna slip into death like that. He looked down at his wrist, gauging the desperation in his brother's voice and close to being freaked out by it. "I won't move, I swear. Scoot over," he said, waiting until Dean released him.

He grabbed the remote, and brought the lap top over, then got on the bed. The fact that he had to help push Dean, that his brother was unable to muster up the energy to scoot over had him worrying all over again. It was weird... no it was wrong, everything was turned around. For years and years, it had been Sam sick in bed with the flu or whatever, and Dean hovering over him. But that wasn't all. Dean was an awful patient and while he might hover, he hated being hovered over like this. "I shouldn't have slept. I'll do better, Dean," he promised, taking his brother's limp hand and giving it a squeeze.

As his brother's eyes closed, Sam told himself he would call dad again later. This was much bigger than either of them thought, and covering up a car accident was not a good reason not to get his dad's help now when he was sure, despite what the doctors said, that his brother's life was in danger.

For a while, he stared at the blank t.v., musing over everything that had happened. The thing that had started this whole snowball rolling, their argument and Dean hitting him, before he left in a rage and got into an accident, all of that was mostly forgotten. The thing that Sam remembered best and that was at the forefront of his mind was how Dean had held him at the bus stop, and how he thought they had found their way back. Then there was that other thing, the one he tried not to remember, not to think about. The strange feelings Dean had stirred up in him when they were in bed and Dean had given him that feverish kiss.

Checking on his brother, seeing he was completely asleep, he reached for the lap top. The last thing he wanted was for the t.v. to wake him. At first, he fooled around, not doing any real research. Then he remembered he'd found a good site where you could post medical questions and get a response. Well he'd posted one, but now he found that he hadn't bookmarked the site as a 'favorite place.' Frowning, he went to look at his 'history' of sites he'd visited and started seeing some older searches that he hadn't made. Dean?

He started clicking on send, looking at the results, scrolling down. What was his brother looking for? He kept going and a word kept coming up. _Incubus_. He'd heard of Sucubus, but.... hmmm. He started his own searches, mostly thinking that maybe it was something Dean had hunted in the past. But once he started reading the mythos behind it, his heart started hammering into his chest.

He looked over at his brother. Yes, he was exhausted and pale, like something was draining him of life. No, there was no real reason for him to be this sick. Sure he'd been in an accident but these symptoms had nothing to do with concussion or bodily injuries. Yeah, he was acting weird, and there were dips in his condition. Each time he was left alone, he was just a little worse. Was an incubus attacking his brother?

Shit... Sam wanted to reject that idea, it just made him all sort of uncomfortable. He researched some more, getting tenser and more uptight by the minute. All the hard ons, the lack of clothes when he'd been on the diningroom table, the feverish kissing in bed... Yeah, he was pretty sure it was an incubus.

Dad... he needed dad now, only Dean could be dead by the time their dad made it back from wherever. Sam would have to handle this. Dean had given him a clue, told him not to leave him alone. Okay, he could do that. But he needed to find out how to kill an incubus. There was plenty of information on what an incubus is, but the solutions were rarer or unbelievable. Suddenly, Dean's request that Sam not let him go made sense and scared the hell out of him. Hunching over, he concentrated harder, determine that he would not give his brother up to any _thing_. 


	7. Chapter 7

  
He had no idea how long he slept. But despite the fact that he was dead to the world, Dean's sleep was not peaceful.    


  
He wanted… he _needed_ …

_Hot skin beneath him. Flushed with arousal. Sweat glistening…_

Dean moaned softly in his sleep. His own skin feeling flushed with heat. Remembering how hot he'd been pressed against a lithe strong back. How slick their skin had been, moving together. The taste of salt and desire on his tongue when he licked wetly at the glistening flesh.

_Soft moans gradually increasing with volume. Desperation. Little desperate pants and grunts every time they moved. Some sounds of pain, little moans of discomfort, understandable when it was the first time. But the sweet whines and moans of pleasure his name whispered in such need over and over, more than made up for that discomfort._

He wanted to hear his brother make those sounds again. He wanted it to be all he heard. He wanted to make Sam scream his name in ecstasy as he took him again and again. Taking, and giving, them both what they wanted.

_So fucking tight. The velvety slick channel around his cock, inner muscles practically strangling his dick at first they were so tight. Reluctant to loosen for him, to open for the foreign invasion, but finally relenting. Relaxing. Allowing him into the forbidden. Flesh of his flesh. Blood of his blood. They were meant to fit together like this. It was perfect. He angled his hips just right as he fucked into Sam hard, bringing forth such sweet sounds of pleasure when his dick rubbed over the younger boy's prostate over and over. The first to ever touch his brother like this. The only… Sam was his…_

He wanted that again. _needed_ that again. To feel Sam beneath him. To feel himself inside his brother. To fuck his brother. To taste his lips. To taste his skin. To taste his cock. His come. To fill the younger boy up with his seed until it dripped out of his perfect little ass. He needed it. He ached for it. It hurt so much. 

"Sammy…" Dean moaned, nearly in agony, forcing his eyes open. He couldn't think beyond the cloud of lust and pain obscuring all of his thoughts. Nothing else mattered. Nothing except trying to find what he wanted. What he needed. Sam… Why wasn't Sam giving him what he needed?    


* * *

Stunned by his discovery and trying hard to find a solutions, at first, Sam only glanced over at Dean when he started to make sounds in his sleep, confirmed he looked fine, and went back to pounding on the keyboard. He wasn't gonna let his brother's life be drained away, no fucking way. He needed his older brother, always had, always would. All his life, Dean had taken care of him, been at the center of everything, the only stable thing in his life. If he had a problem, Dean would solve it, even if he flicked him off first or made him jump through hoops, that's what brothers were for. That's what family was about, Dean taught him that, if not with words, with actions. Sure, they didn't have an ideal family, but he never, not once, doubted his brother's love.

His heart constricted. Yeah, there were times when he'd wondered what was going through Dean's mind. He'd never thought it was hate, but Dean had definitely been pushing him away. That was before they made up on that bus stop bench, when Dean stopped him from leaving. Having no idea what he could have done to earn that, to suddenly have Dean walking away from him, or shove him off, or cut him off when he tried to talk, he'd put it down to his brother being tired of taking care of him. That was something he could understand, but he'd never though hate... he'd always known underlying any emotion Dean showed him, there was love.

Dean probably loved him more than dad. They'd been the center of each others' worlds, but while Sam had had to depend on Dean, Dean had given his time, his efforts, himself not because he had to, because he wanted to.

He clicked the mouse button, jumping into the next page. More about Incubi, how they both drained sexual and emotional energy, and stimulated it. How they lured their victims, became more and more irresistible to them. How they chose to appear in a form that would most appeal to the victims... the victim's deepest desire, be it a real person, or an 'ideal' they had in their mind. "But how do you kill it... how?" he muttered when Dean started to thrash.

Sam put the lap top aside and leaned over his brother who was moaning, saying his name. Sam's breath hitched, his pulse started to race as he was reminded of the kisses Dean had given him in bed. This is what Dean had sounded like, and he'd been flushed just like this. No, he needed to stop thinking about that, and just think on how he could help Dean.

Sliding his palm over the warm flesh of Dean's cheek, he pushed his hand under Dean's head, lifting him slightly. "Right here, Dean. What do you need?" he asked, noticing how unfocused his brother's eyes were. He leaned closer, to hear him. "Dean?"

* * *

The light tender caress to his cheek practically burned, and Dean moaned again. Wanting more, needing more, he needed Sam. So much… Dean turned his face into his brother’s palm out of instinct, seeking more, more of his brother’s touch. It wasn’t enough. He needed more. Didn’t Sam understand that? He needed more…

Somehow, with great difficulty, he managed to almost focus on Sam’s face hovering over his. Sam… Sammy… his sweet innocent little brother… Sam looked so concerned. Worried… about him… afraid…

“Sammy…” Dean whispered. He wanted to reassure his brother, but all he could manage was the younger boy’s name. He wanted to tell Sam there wasn’t any reason to be afraid. It was just them. Just like it should be.

He lifted his hand, even though it felt weighed down by lead, and placed it on his brother’s cheek. Caressing Sam’s face tenderly. The way Sam had caressed him. His fingers sliding back through the soft silky strands of his brother’s hair. Cupping the back of his neck. God, he felt like he was burning, and that light touch was soothing water.

“Need you…” Dean practically growled in need. Snaking his other arm around his brother’s waist and pulling Sam down on top of him. Moaning at the weight of the younger boy’s body covering his own, too much separating them of course, but he would fix that soon. With a moan he pulled on the back of his brother’s neck and rose up to kiss Sam hard, devouring his brother’s mouth without restraint. 

* * *

At first, Sam thought Dean was awake, especially when he’d put his hand on Sam’s cheek. “Need what?” Sam asked as soon as Dean spoke, “what do you need?”

One moment he was looking down at his brother with concern, and the next Dean pulled him down over him. His brother’s groan had Sam worrying that he’d hurt him, he wasn’t a small kid. Just as he started to try to pull his weight of, Dean moved again, this time cupping his neck, pulling him down and welding their mouths together.

The breath was knocked out of Sam at first. Surprised, he did nothing... said nothing as Dean pushed his tongue inside his mouth. Then it was just like that other time when Dean had been feverish and had kissed him. Strong, unfamiliar sensations traveled through Sam’s body.

“De... don’t...” His brother tangled their tongues together and worked his mouth over his in a rhythm that had Sam’s head swimming, and his entire body tense and paying attention. It took him a minute to realize the sound he’d heard had come from him, much like the sounds he made when he jacked off, only louder. Dean was getting him hard, making him want to kiss back, to move against him.

Sam tentatively moved his tongue, sweeping it along Dean’s, and suddenly he was swept up in a new wave of heat. Groaning, he kissed Dean, learning the motions of tongue and mouth. It was only when he involuntarily ground his hips that guilt and shame washed through him. Dean wasn’t even really conscious and here he was taking advantage of it... what the hell.

Almost panicked, he ripped himself out of Dean’s arms. “Stop... Dean, you’re dreaming,” he said, pushing Dean’s arms back down, putting them under the blankets. “Sleep alright, I’m gonna stop this, I swear, I’ll help you,” he promised.

Scooting away, he worked again on the lap top, but his mouth burned, and his body felt strange, like there was unfinished business. His heart hurt, because he knew, what he’d just experienced would never happen again, and that nothing could compare... nothing.

* * *

Dean moaned in pleasure into his little brother’s sweet mouth as their tongues tangled together. The younger boy unresponsive at first, confusing him, but he finally felt those gentle tentative touches and Dean groaned louder in encouragement and pleasure. Sam kissed him like his brother had never kissed anyone before, all enthusiasm and little skill, and it was really turning him on. When Sam pretended to be coy like this… it was so sweet and hot at the same time…

Dean wasted no time “showing him what to do”, licking inside of his brother’s mouth, tracing his gums and teeth, stroking and sucking on his tongue. His fingers petting and stroking through Sam’s hair and down his back, rocking his hips up to meet Sam’s when his little brother began pushing down against him. Letting Sam feel how hard he was making him, feeling Sam growing hard in return, perfect…

But then Sam was breaking their kiss, pushing him away, telling him… to stop? Sleep? No, he didn’t need sleep. He needed Sam. The absence of the younger boy in his arms was like a cold black void, and he needed his brother. He needed Sam warm and moaning beneath him in pleasure. He _needed_ it.

“Sammy, please…” Dean moaned, forcing his arms underneath him, pushing himself up even though his body practically refused to move. The burning need inside of him, knowing that only Sam could ease it, was enough of an incentive to make him try.

He managed to follow Sam, scooting over the couple of feet that put his brother back in his reach, and he threw his arms around the younger boy. Burying his face into Sam’s neck, mouthing and sucking on the soft skin, while his hands roamed wherever they could reach. Sliding over Sam’s chest and back, and finally worming their way underneath his brother’s shirt to caress warm perfect skin.

“Need you Sammy, please…” Dean begged again, licking up Sam’s neck to nibble on the skin just beneath his ear. One of his hands started working its way under the waistband of his brother’s boxers. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll suck your cock. I’ll lick you open. I’ll fuck you. You can fuck me. Anything…” 

* * *

Dean moved so damned quick again, Sam didn’t see it coming. One moment he was innocently trying to forget the burning kiss as he worked on finding a solution, and the next, Dean was clinging to him, surrounding him. It was way too hot and humid to be touching, but the way Dean touched him, he wasn’t thinking of that kind of heat, but a whole nuther type.

He felt Dean’s mouth on his throat, the wetness from his tongue, and then Dean was sucking on his skin. Goose bumps rose on his flesh, his stomach clenching in wonder as Dean’s hand skimmed over his abs. “Dean... can’t...” Despite his words, he just sat there, his heart beating hard against his chest as he tried to analyze all the sensations assaulting his senses. He’d never realized how good Dean smelled, how thick his voice could get, or that when he spoke at a particular octave, it was as if it made his entire body hum.

He let out a heated breath, wondering if this is what all the girls Dean took out felt. No wonder they fell all over him. His mouth was magic, his touch... it just made him want to stay there, like that, made him want to ask for another kiss. Wanted to so bad, but he knew it was wrong.

Then Dean was begging him, telling him he ‘needed’ him. The words, the way he said them had Sam more hot and bothered than he’d ever been in his life. “No... don’t say that,” he whispered breathlessly, knowing he’d think about it for days, or weeks, knowing he’d jack off to it, even if he shouldn’t. “Dean you should...”

He’d just started to push Dean again, when Dean’s hand wrapped around his dick and the words stuck in Sam’s throat. Before he could even react, Dean was making suggestions, dirty filthy suggestions, things Sam had _never_ thought about before, not really, not with a guy.

Images of Dean’s mouth on his dick flashed through his mind, and being fucked... he meant in the... Dean meant. His heart tumbled, and he pushed Dean away hard. He didn’t know if it was fear, though it should be disgust, it should be. “No Dean, stop this... it’s not you.”

No matter what he did though, Dean insisted on touching him. Once he got Dean’s hand out of his shorts, Dean was leaning in, kissing him, making suggestions in his ear. The begging was what broke Sam’s heart. What had this incubus done to his brother.

After trying to fend Dean off, and being hampered by his own body’s reaction, he managed to get off the bed. Dean was trying to scramble after him, and was only his weakness that prevented him.

A few minutes later, Sam returned, walking around to the other side of the bed. The minute Dean rolled closer, Sam cuffed him, just one hand, to the handle of the drawer of the nightstand. “Dean, calm down, Dean!” He peeled himself away from his brother’s other hand. “Its and incubus that’s doing this, do you know how to fight it? DEAN, help me! Do you know what I need to do? HELP ME.”

* * *

Dean wasn’t prepared when Sam shoved him away. It felt like a knife in his heart. Why was Sam shoving him away? Why wasn’t his brother giving him what he needed? He said that he would do anything Sam wanted. Anything… and instead Sam was pushing him away.

“Sam, please… Please!” Dean begged, trying to touch Sam again. Trying to make Sam feel good, trying to ease the burning need inside of himself. It hurt so much. He needed Sam so much. “I need you, Sammy please…”

But Sam pushed him away. _Again_. And this time his brother got off the bed and left the room. Sam was _leaving_ him. Like he’d promised not to… he’d promised…

“Sammy!” He cried out after the younger boy, trying to get up off the bed, follow Sam, but he could barely move. His efforts only making him almost fall out of the bed, and he sobbed in agony. “Need you… please, Sammy, please…”

When Sam returned, Dean felt close to tears as he reached out to the younger boy, but his brother gave the bed a wide berth and Dean had to try to struggle weakly to the other side. Reaching out to Sam again, only to find himself suddenly restrained, and he looked down at his cuffed wrist as though it didn’t belong to him.

Dean turned wide wounded eyes back to his brother. He didn’t understand what Sam was asking him. He couldn’t think beyond simply needing Sam.

“I don’t know…” He whispered, his eyes pleading, before another wave of pain swept through him and he curled in on himself with a moan. His skin felt like it was on fire. His cock was so hard it could pound nails, and it _hurt_ so fucking much. He’d never felt a pain like this before, he was shaking with it. His head felt like it was being split in two. He wasn’t surprised at all when he felt the coppery wetness dripping from his nose. “Hurts… oh fuck… Sammy it hurts…” 

* * *

Struggling with Dean, pushing him away, then listening to him plead, and beg... it was the hardest thing Sam had every done. He could see Dean didn’t understand him, that Dean was somewhere else inside his head.

“Please, please tell me how to make it better,” Sam pleaded, his heart constricting. Then Dean was moaning, in pain, and it wasn’t funny, wasn’t embarrassing, it just plain had Sam in a panic, seeing Dean bleeding again and telling him it hurt.

He looked at the lap top that had slid to the floor, then at his brother, shaking like a leaf. He knew he had to find a cure, but how could he leave Dean to this? How the fuck was he supposed to do that.

His gaze dropped to Dean’s groin, and he just knew that whatever Dean was feeling, it wasn’t just blue balls, it was extreme. He started to shake like a leaf too, just looking down, frozen... undecided. This wasn’t what his brother needed, this wasn’t how Dean would react if their positions were in reverse. Dean would do something, he’d save him, help him.

Sam dropped down onto the bed, moving Dean so he was flat on his back. He lay on top of him, kissed, him, ignoring the taste of blood. “I’m right here, Dean. Kiss you alright? This what you need?” He felt Dean buck under him, felt his free hand move to his back.

Tentatively, he moved against Dean, so afraid... so unsure about what he was doing, but so damned scared not to do anything. “Don’t hurt Dean, I’m right here... I’m right here.” Tears started to stream from his eyes. “Tell me what I have to do to beat this thing, please tell me... God Dean, I need help, please tell me.”

* * *

Dean was so close to simply ripping off his own skin, just to make the burning stop, when Sam was finally there. His brother’s touch making him whimper as the younger boy shoved him onto his back. Sam’s touch was like a balm and he practically sobbed into his brother’s mouth when the younger boy’s lips covered his own.

He kissed Sam back desperately. His free arm slid around the younger boy’s slim waist to clutch his brother tighter to him, bucking up against Sam. Hating that there were so many layers of cloth separating their bodies, but he would take whatever he could get at this point. A low agonizing groan was ripped from his throat when Sam finally began to move against him.

Dean honestly wasn’t sure how he was able to think beyond the painful need gripping him, but his brother’s voice shaking with fear reached him at a soul deep level. He forced his eyes open and seeing the younger boy’s tear streaked face was like a punch to the gut.

Sam needed him. Needed him to tell him what to do, but Dean felt just as lost as his little brother. Was this enough? He didn’t know. The fact that he could think at all, maybe that meant it was helping, a little. But it wasn’t enough.

“Not enough…” He groaned, embarrassment forgotten, shame forgotten, as all he could think about was easing the unbearable need inside of him.

His hand slid down Sam’s back, tugging at the hem of his shirt and hiking it up to his armpits. The touch of Sam’s bare skin against his had him moaning again, but this time not in pain. Somehow he managed to free himself from his shorts even though he couldn’t stop bucking and rocking his hips up against his brother. Rubbing his aching dick against the bare skin of Sam’s thigh had him gasping and shuddering, his fingers clutching at Sam’s ass as pleasure began to replace the fiery pain burning through his veins.

“It’s good… Sammy… better…” He panted, kissing Sam’s cheek. Licking away his little brother’s tears back to the younger boy’s lips. His breath hitching as he brushed his lips over his brother’s mouth. “I’m sorry… so sorry, Sam…” 

* * *

Sam gasped as Dean dragged his shirt up his body, almost got it off him. Deciding he could lose it, Sam tugged it the rest of the way off. He told himself he could handle this, would handle it, but when he looked down, Dean had somehow gotten his shorts off and was practically naked under him.

 

Heat stained his cheeks. Before he could say a thing, Dean had grabbed him by the ass and was pulling him down as he thrust up against him. His mind and body were suddenly focused on the feel of Dean's naked cock rubbing against him, grinding into his thigh. His breaths started coming a lot faster, he felt Dean's mouth over his face, over his own mouth, light as a feather, apologies tumbling from his brother's lips.

 

"No, it's okay Dean. Want to help, just don't... not under my... leave them on," he whispered against Dean's ear, as he started to move a little harder against his brother. At first it had been just to help Dean, but need was building up inside him. "Dean... God... Dean..." his breaths puffed out between his lips.

 

Afraid of his own feelings, his own reactions, Sam buried his face in Dean's throat and tried to hide from them. He was breathing hard and out loud, and so fucking embarrassed. "Still good, Dean... helping," he asked, afraid, so worried he was doing this for himself. "Want you to get better, please Dean, get better." He didn't know how it happened, but he slid his mouth over Dean's and just... just opened for his brother.

 

Then they were kissing, and he could hear and feel Dean pull against the cuffs holding one of his arms, heard his frustrated attempts to free himself. "Sorry Dean, had to ...." He lifted his head up, felt his brother's iron grip as if Dean was afraid he'd roll off. He bit his lower lip as his cock, trapped between their bodies, got impossibly harder. "Anh... oh God... Dean... Dean I..." Just that quick, he came in his shorts, tears blurring his eyes as shame washed over him.

* * *

Dean swallowed hard and nodded to his brother’s instructions. If Sam didn’t want Dean to touch him under his shorts, he wouldn’t. He would do whatever Sam wanted. He would gladly take whatever his brother offered him.

He threw his head back and groaned, bucking up beneath the younger boy’s body and probably would have unseated Sam if he wasn’t also clinging to his brother so tightly. Just feeling Sam, hard, digging into his stomach, even with the thin layer of cloth separating them was heaven.

“Yeah… its good… helping…” Dean whispered in reply. He was so close already. He knew when he came the pain would go away. Somehow he just knew it. He just… had to get there… He needed Sam to get him there.

Dean moaned into his brother’s mouth when Sam’s lips covered his own again, and he thrust his tongue past the younger boy’s teeth, exploring every inch he could. Tugging uselessly at the cuffs restraining him, frustrated he couldn’t hold Sam even tighter to him, couldn’t touch his brother with both hands, but this was enough. Right now this was enough.

When Sam broke their kiss, Dean was left panting, trembling, looking up at the younger boy as though he was everything. His heart and soul and more. Watching Sam come undone as though it was the first time, feeling the hot wetness spreading through Sam’s shorts as his brother came, feeling the younger boy trembling against him, pushed Dean over the edge as well.

He bucked beneath Sam so hard he wasn’t sure how he didn’t throw his brother off of him, practically screaming Sam’s name as he came. Shuddering so hard beneath the younger boy he felt like he was having a seizure.

“Sam… oh god… Sammy…” He moaned like he was in agony, and a part of him was, until the last shudder racked his body and he collapsed spent and completely boneless beneath the younger boy. Gasping and wheezing and feeling completely drained in mind and body.

* * *

The tremors of pleasure ripping through Sam were just starting to ease when Dean suddenly bucked his hips so high that Sam almost fell off to the ground. Hearing his brother scream, his heart clenched at first in fear for Dean, then... then something else ... a realization that it wasn't pain, it was that same need he'd been gripped with seconds ago.

Then Dean stopped moving, stopped crying out, like his pain was gone... like he was alright again. "D... Dean, it's okay now..." he breathed against his brother's ear, then lifted his head. His hands on Dean's shoulders were trembling, his legs still felt weak. "Gonna be okay," he nodded, answering for his brother.

He kissed Dean's cheek, then felt himself flush, and stammered an apology, which after all that just happened was really, really stupid. He crawled off Dean and bringing the bowl of water that was still in the room from when Dean had needed cold compresses for his fever, he came back and cleaned Dean up... mostly. "Here," he said gently, giving him the wet cloth to let him take care of his own privates. "I'll... I'll be right back."

True to his word, Sam was back in three minutes, having showered and changed into new shorts and a tee. A little unsurely, he got on the bed next to his brother and picked up the lap top. "You know, I was gonna ask for kissing advice... guess I got it, now." He cleared his throat, not looking at Dean, but smiling just a little as he recalled the heat that flooded his system at every touch of Dean's tongue. "We're going to have to talk about this," he nodded again. "After we get rid off your... your problem. Any ideas, Dean?"

* * *

Sam’s gentle touches and the soft whispers next to his ear were comforting and only made the older boy relax more. Dean’s thoughts felt like they were swimming through his head like thick syrup. Moving as slow as molasses in the winter, but he didn’t care. He only cared that the pain was gone, the need was gone, sated… for now. It was going to be ok. Ok… he clung to that thought, those promises. It was going to be ok…

When he felt Sam moving away, Dean moaned softly in complaint and forced his eyes open. He didn’t want Sam to leave him. He still needed Sam… but his brother didn’t go far. Just for water and a wash cloth. Dean offered the younger boy a small shaky smile when his brother started to wipe the sweat off his face. It felt good, so good…

He let his eyes slide closed again, exhausted, as Sam worked. However when he felt the rag pressed into his hand and Sam left again, he forced them open again with a sound of complaint. Why was Sam always leaving him? He didn’t like it when Sam… disappeared… after they were together. He wanted Sam to always stay with him. He wanted… Dean frowned up at the ceiling in confusion. Something wasn’t right… Something… but he didn’t know what.

He and Sam, it was perfect. It was what he always wanted… but it shouldn’t be. Sam was his _brother_. His little brother, for god sake! It was bad enough that he wanted Sam so badly that an incubus had been able to use the younger boy’s form to… but it wasn’t… it was Sam, really Sam… oh dear god…

Dean paled so much he probably rivaled the sheets he was laying on. Horror at what he’d done and guilt churning his stomach so badly he thought he might be sick. Might be? He _was_ sick. A sick fucking bastard that had just molested his little brother… and Sam had let him… oh god… He should have just let that fucking incubus kill him, suck him dry, he deserved that and worse, so much worse.

When Sam returned, Dean couldn’t look at his brother. He simply couldn’t. Sam’s attempt at a joke to lighten the mood settled like a frozen piece of lead in his gut. His throat felt so tight with shame he could barely breathe.

Talk… What the hell was there to talk about? Dean was a sick fucking bastard that deserved to be arrested, or castrated, dead, or all of the above.

* * *

  
Sam stared at the screen for a while, then looked over at Dean. "Are you mad because of the cuffs?" He licked his lips and stared at the silent figure next to him, very aware that Dean wasn't looking at him... was avoiding him to be precise. He hung his head. "Are you mad because I.... Dean I didn't know what to do. You were in pain, I thought you were gonna have a coronary."

He thought back on what had happened. Yeah, okay he'd liked the kissing and some of the other stuff, and probably he shouldn't... but he hadn't initiated it because of that. Dean had seriously been in danger of ... of going into a fit or something. At first he'd kept away from him, that's why he'd gotten the cuffs but it had been obvious to him that Dean was in actual pain. No, he'd had no other choice, he really hadn't.

Tear sprang in his eyes. "Don't be mad at me for this Dean, just don't. I didn't know what else to do, and now you won't help me?" His brother held as still as a statue, and that pissed him off a little. Dragging his gaze away, he started working on the lap top but forgot what he'd already looked up. Clicking on the history button, he froze. There was stuff there that he hadn't searched, but he could tell it was related.

Dean... Dean had been on the lap top at the hospital, he'd known. Turning sideways to look at him, he leaned down. "You knew... you knew what this was, an incubus, but you didn't tell me. Dean, do you know how I can stop it? Dean!" He shook his shoulder, then pulled away. Staring at the screen, he muttered, "I'm gonna call dad again. He's gotta know something."

* * *

When Sam mentioned the cuffs, Dean’s gaze flickered briefly over to his bound wrist. Honestly? He’d almost forgotten he was restrained. Looking at the cuffs now, Dean felt his stomach twist just a bit more, if that was even possible. Sam had to restrain him… because he hadn’t stopped. Sam had tried to get him to stop, but he simply wouldn’t. He kept reaching out for Sam. Kept trying to touch him… kiss him… and Sam had to restrain him. Not that it had mattered in the end, because he had still… and Sam had let him…

Mad. There was that word again. How could his brother even ask that? How could Sam possibly think that Dean was mad at _him_. Dean closed his eyes, feeling so damned close to sobbing his eyes out like a pathetic little girl. How the hell could he even think to feel sorry for himself, after what he’d done to Sam?

He wanted to say something. He knew he _should_ say something. But he couldn’t.

Then Sam was switching gears, just like that, his ever quick mind jumping to conclusions that were normally correct. Accusing him… not that Dean could deny it. Well, he could, but the lie would fall pathetically obvious from his lips.

Sam was shaking him. Asking him… did he know how to stop it? No, if he’d known how to stop it he would have done it before he’d raped his little brother…

The younger boy mentioning their father seemed to finally break Dean from his paralysis and his hand shot out to grasp Sam’s wrist without thinking. Then realizing what he’d done, he released his brother just as quickly. Oh god, how could he even _think_ of touching Sam in any way right now?

“Don’t… please…” Dean finally managed to choke out, begging Sam unashamedly. Of course, once his eyes met his brother’s the tears he’d been fighting against all this time spilled down his cheeks, his voice shaking and broken as his shame and guilt overwhelmed him completely. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

* * *

Startled, Sam looked at his wrist. Dean’s grip was surprisingly strong, though he quickly let him go. Lifting his eyes in question, he licked his lips. “Dad? But Dean...”

When his brother started to cry and apologize, his gut clenched. “No, no Dean, it’s alright,” he said, leaning over him, using the heel of his hand to gently wipe Dean’s tears. “Not your fault. We’re gonna get this thing, okay? You and me, and then everything... everything is gonna be fine.”

The look, the doubt in Dean’s eyes scared him. “Don’t you give up on us, you promised,” he reminded his brother. “Out there, at that bus stop, you promised me.” Again, he licked his lips. “This... this thing that happened, it’s fine Dean. I’m not traumatized... I’m not.”

Sam realized that’s what his brother was worrying about, even though he knew it went deeper. He’d realized already it meant that before the incubus, Dean had seen him a certain way, which made everything that had happened in the last year make sense. The way Dean pushed him away a lot, even the way he’d gotten physical, hitting him that night before his accident. “But you’re gonna have to get better before we can talk about it, and stop... don’t feel bad. I might have... you know, not minded some of it.” His color rose, and he had a bit of a smile. “Now help me.”

* * *

This wasn’t right. None of it was right. Forget the fact that he’d just raped his underage little brother, Sam shouldn’t be the one doing this. He should be the one taking care of Sam. He should be the one making sure his brother was ok. He should be the one comforting the younger boy, wiping away his tears… instead Dean was the one falling apart and Sammy was staring down at him looking lost and scared as he tried to keep his big brother together.

All right. Fine. He wanted to believe that was true. He wanted to believe, so very badly, that it was going to be all right… once this was all over… as though this was just another hunt. But it wasn’t. It would never be all right again, no matter how much he wanted it to be. Nothing would ever erase what he’d done to Sam. Nothing would ever make Sam forget. Nothing would ever make him forget…

Sam decided at that moment to remind him of his promise. But Dean really didn’t have it in him right now to explain to Sam that this was a little fucking different than him hitting Sam… and everything else that had happened. Sam knew now. He knew what a twisted fuck his big brother really was… But Sam wasn’t looking at him with disgust, or fear, or hate. Just concern, reassurance… Sam reassuring _him_ that he hadn’t “traumatized” his brother. Telling him… he might not have… minded?

Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or sob… Was Sam just trying to make him feel better or something? He couldn’t possibly mean it. They both couldn’t possibly be that fucked up.

“I don’t know how to kill it, Sam.” He finally managed in a hoarse whisper. 

* * *

“Okay.” Sam still wasn’t sure he shouldn’t be calling dad, at least to just find out how to deal with a succubus. Or maybe even Bobby, he could tell the hunter that Dean needed the information or something. Nah, Bobby was as hard to bullshit as their dad.

Worrying his lip, he went back to researching, very aware his brother was watching him, might even want to talk, but they needed this thing dead first. He started to talk out loud as he found stuff out, state his own ideas.

A smile curved his lips whenever Dean managed to put in his two cents and poked a hole in his theories. He knew thinking straight was taking a toll out of Dean, could see how tired his brother was, how drained of energy.

Another hour went by before Sam sat up straight. “Doesn’t dad have this?” He read the name of a text that was referenced as an authority on succubi. When he looked over at Dean, his brother had his eyes closed and was asleep.

Without making a lot of noise, Sam put the lap top away and got out of bed. He went into his dad’s closet, looked around at one of the shelves inside it where he kept some sources. Nothing. “I’m gonna go to the garage, look in the storage cabinet,” he said, though his brother was still out cold.

Taking one last look at Dean, Sam headed out, stepping barefooted onto the sun heated porch and into the dying sunlight. Twilight hadn’t really brought much relief from the heat. Inside the garage, it was sweltering. Breathing the hot air, he started to rifle through the old cupboard, finding the false back and taking it out.

* * *

_It_ was furious. Sam... the real Sam had taken its place, offered Dean comfort, given him sex. _It_ wanted, needed Dean to be ravenous, needed him to be so hungry, he would give everything, his life energy, every last drop, he next time they had sex.

To make sure of it, he pulled the sheets down off Dean’s body and started touching him everywhere, caressing lightly, infusing him with need, hot and desperate desire.

As the feelings spread, he stepped back from the bed and took Sam’s form. He waited until Dean’s eyes fluttered open. “How badly do you want me, brother?”

* * *

He was so damned tired. Dean didn’t think he had been so worn out since he’d gotten sick with the stomach flu a few years back and spent most of his time either puking or sleeping. He’d felt like hell then, but he felt even worse now. But that’s what happens when he let an incubus suck on him like a god damned juice box because he couldn’t keep his hands off of his baby brother…

Fuck, he was pathetic…

Dean had tried to help Sam as much as he could, because despite the fact that he felt he deserved all of this… what the incubus was doing to him… because of his sick need for his brother, he didn’t want to die. He knew that things would never be the same way they were before between him and Sam. At least the younger boy was being kind enough not to throw it back in his teeth when he was barely hanging on the edge by his fingertips. But Sammy was like that, too damned nice for his own good sometimes.

Once it was all over though… he knew he would have to leave. There wasn’t really any other outcome. He didn’t want Sam to have to look at him and always wonder if his disgusting older brother was going to make a move on him or something. He wouldn’t put Sam through that.

God, what the hell was he going to tell Dad? He supposed anything would do, as long as it wasn’t the truth…

At some point Dean simply couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and he’d drifted off to sleep to the sound of Sam muttering to himself, trying to puzzle things out, and the clicking keys of the laptop. It was so normal it was almost comforting.

Unfortunately, comfort was the last thing that Dean awoke in. His skin felt like it was so hot he was burning. Need pumping through his veins like boiling acid, pooling in his groin. His dick so red and hard, leaking, it was painful. Dean moaned in agony as his eyes fluttered open. He could barely focus. He was panting and shaking. Sweat forming on his brow and chest. Oh god, it was worse than before, when he had… no… he couldn’t do that to Sam again… he couldn’t…

But Sam was standing there at the foot of the bed. Looking beautiful and perfect and Dean couldn’t not try to reach out to him. Just to touch him… needing to touch him… His wrist still handcuffed to the bedside table brought him up short and Dean moaned in agony.

“Sammy… oh god… I need…” 

* * *

Sam looked serious. Wounded. He searched Dean's face, then came to sit on the bed, his bare thighs brushing against Dean's feet. "When I slept with you, when I let you fuck me, when I asked you to put your mouth over my dick... I thought you loved me, Dean. I mean I really thought I was something more than one of your sluts, you know? If you'd told me, explained it to me, I'd never have..."

Tears sparkled in Sam's eyes. He drew his knees up onto the bed, turning bodily toward Dean, then opening his thighs, sitting crosslegged, one knee resting over Dean's leg. "You cheated on me, that's just not right." His throat convulsed. "How can it be fair, that I'm sitting here, just... just wanting you, even when you did that to me. Explain to me why I have this incredible urge to kiss you... to want to feel your tongue inside my mouth, moving in and out... just like... you know," he nodded toward the door. "It was so hot Dean, made me feel so damned good."

He rubbed the heels of his hands up and down his thighs, his stomach muscles clenching and unclenching as he spoke. "Since then, all I can think about is how your tongue felt on my dick, in my ass. I should feel dirty, but I don't... I just want it, want it so bad. Everytime I think about it... look..." he pulled the material of his boxers tight against his leg, to show Dean the outline of his thick hard shaft "I want you touching me so bad, I like your hands on me, like the sounds you make. I like it when you get rough... and then gentle. Like it when your on top of me Dean, and when I feel how hard you are. It makes me feel special. But I'm not, am I?" He cocked is head. "You did it with him," he said, a sob breaking out of him. "You gave up fucking me for... for that pale imitation?"

* * *

Dean could barely understand Sam’s words through the haze of lust clouding all of his thoughts, though they still hit him like a punch to the gut. Twisting him up inside even more than the burning need running through his veins like wildfire. Need for his brother.

But Sam thought he…

No, he didn’t think of Sam like that. Sam meant _everything_ to him! He _did_ love Sam! So damned much… too damned much…

“Sammy…” Dean whimpered his brother’s name. Not understanding. Cheated? But he hadn’t…

Dean groaned and his hard aching dick dribbled another stream of come along his stomach when Sam mentioned what they’d done last night. In the kitchen. How he’d licked the younger boy open and then fucked him right across the kitchen table…

No… that wasn’t right, that hadn’t been Sam… it… was the incubus… wasn’t it? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure. He was so damned confused he didn’t know what was right or wrong anymore. He wanted Sam even though he knew he was sick for it. He loved Sam even though he knew he shouldn’t. He wanted to make love to Sam… had made love to Sam… and he wanted to again. Needed to again. Oh god, he needed…

He couldn’t help but watch as Sam’s hands traveled along the younger boy’s skin even though his brother’s pained words pushed the knife deeper into his heart and twisted it.

“You are special, Sammy. I love you… I do… so damned much it hurts, baby brother. I’m sorry… I was confused… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to. I never wanted to hurt you, never… Love you…”

* * *

  
Sam watched him intently, every single movement of his hands and body geared to draw attention to his body, his tongue as he slowly licked his mouth, his long legs as his hands continued to fidget and slide over them. Even the way he turned his head, swallowed, made sure Dean was looking at his throat... felt his need, his hunger rising, whipped it up with everything he had. He wanted Dean so frenzied that the boy wouldn't know what the hell was happening, even as the last drops of his life essence were sucked out of him.

The aroma of his need, of his emotional confusion, his heartache... his guilt, it was so intoxicating that _It_ wanted to attack him right here, right now. So handsome, tied up and writhing with absolute need, a sheen of sweat covering him, his eyes unfocused and pleading... it couldn't be more perfect.

Moving onto his hands and knees, he crawled forward, straddling Dean's knees, licking his lips as he felt the heat rising from Dean's body. "I want you. Want you so bad Dean. Want you to kiss me, want to hear you say I'm yours, that you don't want anyone else... that it's me you need to kiss, to fuck, it's me you want to hold... me you dream about." Lowering himself but not touching Dean at all, moving above him, in subtle sex motions, he let his mouth drop at the corners. "I saw you.... saw you let him get on top of you, heard you with him. I thought you wanted _me_. I won't share you... I'd rather take my stuff and leave. Never see you again, never feel you inside me, never hear you yell my name. You getting this Dean? I won't share you."

* * *

Thank God for the Latin to English dictionary. Sweat dripped down Sam's forehead as he poured over the book he'd finally found that had a chapter addressing succubi. Nothing specifically on how to deal with an incubus, but he had to believe they were similar enough that this would work. Maybe he should have been researching Succubi earlier, dammit. His finger swept down the page of the dictionary... _Forsake, renounce, relinquish._.

Alright... they could do this. First the fucking creature had to be lured back. Sam reached for the text one more time, wanting to see if there was anything else... anything.

* * *

He was burning up from the inside out. That’s what it felt like. Dean wouldn’t have been surprised if Sam told him he was dying. He’d never felt lust or need like this. Had never _wanted_ to feel it like this. This was too much. It was painful and he just wanted that pain to end. It didn’t matter how, he just wanted it to end...

Dean whimpered when the younger boy finally moved. Closer to him. Hovering over him so close he could feel the heat of his brother’s body, and yet, not touching him. Dean groaned in pain at the torture. He just wanted to touch Sam. He wanted to grab the younger boy, pull him down, arch against him and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. Instead he was frozen. Frozen by the pain even though he was shaking with it. Frozen by the look in Sam’s eyes.

The possession.

“I want you. I need you.” Dean barely managed to whisper. Choking a little when Sam said he would leave... oh god... he couldn’t bear that thought. He was certain he _would_ die if Sam left him. He’d just burn to ash right where he was laying.

“Please... don’t leave... want you...” Dean begged unashamedly, tears in his eyes. “Need you... only you... I’m yours...”

* * *

Heat rose inside _It_ at Dean's total capitulation. The boy was his, and they were going to fuck to the death... Dean's. He could already feel Dean burning up, it was going to be beautiful. Poetic. It had been a long long time since he'd had anyone with the capacity for this much lust and pain and guilt and love all rolled into one.

"Alright then," Sam whispered, licking his lips and crawling forward a little more so he was directly over Dean. "Take my shorts off Dean. Have me," he whispered sweetly, touching his mouth lightly against Dean's feverish skin as he slid it over his cheek to his mouth. "You can have me Dean, however you want. Just have me."

*

Balancing a couple books and a glass of water for Dean, Sam walked inside. The room was both hot and cold at the same time, and he just knew from the way Dean was moving, looking like he was touching someone... that that Incubus was here with them. Everything in his hands slipped to the ground, the glass shattering and skittering across the floor. Yet despite the sound, his brother didn't even look up.

His heart slammed into his chest. "Dean!" Running to the bed, he hardly felt pieces of glass cut into his feet again, but when he reach it, it was like there was a wall, a forcefield keeping him away from his brother. Getting off the bed, he tried to reach him from the other side, but it was like a bubble, holding Dean inside... not allowing Sam in.

"Can you hear me, Dean? Dean!" But his brother's eyes were only on the invisible entity that had to be with him right now. Seeing Dean like that, the things he was doing, saying, it made Sam squirm. The anger boiling within him, he used it to think of eveyrthing he'd learned. If you exposed a demon or a ghost, could see them, they could be more vulnerable and were usually more inclined to interact.

Wracking his mind, he spewed off a Latin incantation that he'd read about and that his dad would probably have a cow about, if he knew he was doing this. "I invoke, conjure and command you to appear," he said, repeating the phrase over and over, staring at the space right on top of Dean.

And then the lights flickered, and he saw... saw himself, naked, on top of Dean, turning around with hate filled eyes.

"Dean! That is NOT me," Sam shouted, trying again to get through the barrier, seeing his double lick his lips and shove its hand down Dean's shorts, grabbing his brother's attention. "Dean, over here... that's not real, it's not real, Dean! Dean, this is Sam, you know me," he shouted desperately. "Look at me, that thing on you, its the incubus. Remember? We were researching, fucking look at me, Dean!"

* * *

Dean whimpered, a desperate needy sound, and once Sam had given him permission it was like whatever chains had been holding him frozen suddenly snapped. Nothing could have stopped him then from touching his brother. Nothing could have stopped him from kissing the younger boy. Pushing his tongue into Sam’s mouth with an obscene groan as the fingers of his free hand fumbled with and finally literally tore off the younger boy’s underwear. Leaving Sam naked and beautiful and all his above him.

“Oh god, Sammy… need you so much…” Dean panted as he pulled his brother’s lithe form down against him and arched beneath the younger boy. The pressure against his cock as he rubbed up against his brother both soothing and fanning the flames of his desire even more. His hand ran down the younger boy’s back, cupping and squeezing Sam’s buttocks, and then delving between them. Finding that sweet puckered hole and remembering how it had felt sheathed deep inside of his brother last night. He wanted that again. Needed that again.

“Want to be inside you, baby brother. Want to feel you inside again… need to…” He whispered, against his brother’s lips. Pulling back to stare at the younger boy with all the love in his heart so that Sam would never again doubt. He would always choose Sam. Always. There was no one in this world that mattered more to him. No one in this world he loved more, needed more, than his brother.

“Love you, Sammy… love you…”

Dean’s fingers circled around his brother’s tight hole, still so tight even though he’d already had the boy, and he moaned at the younger boy’s warmth as he started to push one of his fingers inside. His attention solely focused on his brother, he didn’t even notice the flickering of the lights. But when Sam suddenly turned his attention away from him, Dean’s gaze immediately started to follow. He frowned in confusion, thought he saw, thought he heard…

But then Sam’s hand was inside of his shorts, squeezing and stroking his dick expertly, and Dean arched beneath the younger boy with another cry of pleasure.

“Sammy!” Dean cried out his brother’s name as he thrust up into those skilled fingers playing with his dick. But once he had heard it, the sound wouldn’t go away now. It… sounded like Sam… calling to him, but from very far away… Sam sounded scared and desperate… in trouble… but Sam was right here, with him… wasn’t he?

“Sammy?” He whispered, confused and pained, as he turned his head to the side… away from Sam, and it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life… blinking his eyes as though trying to clear them. 

* * *

Oh my God, Dean was looking at him, seeing him. Sam had to make this count. "I'm the real Sam Winchester, I'm your brother," he shouted, banging his hand against the force field. "That thing... Dean, it's the incubus, it's killing you. Don't listen to it, don't... don't touch it. Look at me.... don't turn away," he shouted desperately.

His nemesis redoubled its efforts, leaning down and kissing Dean, blocking his view of his brother. He shoved his tongues so deep inside Dean's mouth, the young man couldn't ignore it. In and out, he wove his tongue, lifting up only to whisper about how hard they were gonna fuck again, how they'd be together forever, just like that.

Sam jumped of the bed, ran around to the other side of the forcefield. "Dean... listen to me. Tell it you don't want it. Tell it to go away, it's the only way we win Dean. Dean please..."

Precious moments passed, and the incubus had Dean groaned and writhing, making Sam both uncomfortable and getting him hot and bothered, which he knew was all wrong. Still, his body hardened, his breaths quickened... watching Dean, watching him with _himself_ , it literally felt like he was the one with Dean. And he knew what that felt like, he knew the heat that Dean could send pumping through his body, how he could kiss him, make him feel like he was the center of the universe, the only one who mattered.

That's what that incubus was doing to Dean. Understanding dawned, and Sam tried again. "Dean, I love you. You know that. That thing there, it looks like me, but it isn't. Look at it, it's taking from you, Dean. It wants your life, it sucking it out of you. I just want..." He licked his lips. "I just want _you_. Want you to kiss me, like your kissing it, and it'll be real... not some act... you don't need some actor when the real thing is waiting on you, do you?"

His gaze fell on the incubus' hands and he saw how the thing moved, like a professional, milking lust out of Dean's body.

"I know I can't do that, what he's doing." Sam was on the verge of tears as he realized what he was up against. "I can't compete with that, how he's... he's touching you. But Dean, my love is real, his is _not_. I can learn... but not if you die, not if you let that thing take you from me."

* * *

Dean blinked at Sam slowly in confusion. Not understanding how Sam could be all the way over there, and still be touching him. Running his fingers over his chest, caressing his cock, god, it felt so good… Of course Sam was real. Sam was with him. Finally. Just like he’d always wanted… incubus… what…?

But then Sam was kissing him, and Dean couldn’t help but groan in pleasure. His eyes fluttering closed again as he kissed his brother back with just as much passion. Tangling their tongues together. Arching beneath the younger boy and squeezing Sam’s ass rightly, thrusting his already leaking cock through Sam’s slick fingers.

His own fingers circled closer to his brother’s tight hole, groaning again at the heat of the younger boy’s puckered entrance. Teasing and finally slipping his fingers inside of his brother. Sam was already ready for him, slick and hot, begging, and so needy…

God he needed this so damned much…

Sam… Sam loved him… Sam needed him… His brother was in so much pain… Sammy…

He couldn’t think. Everything was such a blur. Everything pale and… meaningless… when compared to the burning need consuming him from the inside out. Everything except Sam. The Sam who was crying. In pain. The Sam who was begging him not to… leave…

Somehow Dean managed to turn his head weakly away from the lips that felt like they were almost suffocating him. He tried to breathe, tried to catch his breath, but it felt like the air simply wouldn’t reach his lungs. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, to clear his head only a little. Blood… he tasted blood in his mouth… he felt it dripping warm and wet from his nose… He tried to focus on Sam, he knew his brother was there, but he couldn’t see him.

“No…” Dean whispered, barely more than a breath. Weakly trying to push the weight off him that was suffocating him. 

* * *

Seeing the incubus still touching Dean, rolling his hips, making Dean wild, Sam slammed his hand against the barrier. “He said NO. He said no, get away from him. You have to leave now. I command you to leave, he said no, he renounced you. Dammit!”

He bent down, to Dean’s level. “Tell it again, tell it Dean… say ‘I renounce you’… tell it, I swear Dean, you tell it that, and it will go away. It, the pain, everything.”

Leaning down, _It_ pushed its tongue all the way down Dean’s throat, kissed him just like they’d fuck. “He’s not going to give you this. You heard him, he says everything will go away. He means this. But you don’t want this to go away, do you Dean? You want me.”

Sam hit the barrier again. “Anything you want, Dean, I’ll give it to you. Kiss you, touch you… Dean, I love you, please. Please!!!”

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but groan and arch up against the warm weight above him. Writhing underneath the undulating body pressing down on him, the hot line of their cocks sliding together. He just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop touching. Caressing. Wanting… needing… When the younger boy’s hot wet mouth covered his, and the tongue pushed its way inside, Dean opened his mouth freely to the intrusion. He just couldn’t help it…

He wanted it to stop. He never wanted it to stop…

Sam was yelling at him again. Screaming at him. Telling him what to do… telling him it would go away…

He wanted it to go away. Ne never wanted it to go away…

Dean whimpered in response to the words whispered across his lips. Sam… not going to give him this… it will go away… Sam will go away… no… he needed Sam, he needed him so much… No, he didn’t want Sam to go away…

He felt himself slipping away again, becoming buried underneath the feelings raging through him like wildfire. Need… Lust…

Love… Sam loved him… Sam needed him. Sam was the only thing that mattered… not the pain, not the need, not the lust… nothing… Just his brother… just his Sammy…

“No… want Sammy, I… r… renounce… you…” Dean gasped weakly. 

* * *

"Get off him, he renounced you!" Sam shouted, banging his fists on the forcefield and then stumbling forward when it was no longer there. He reached for the incubus, but the thing had floated up, high above Dean, and was changing colors. It went from his own coloring to a freaky deep red.

Sam's entire body clenched in pain... no it was lust? Painful lust, like what Dean was going through. "S...stop..."

There was angry shriek from the incubus and then it was gone.

Sam's body went limp. He turned to Dean, thinking that like himself, his brother had been released from the spell, but he was wrong. Dean looked feverish, hsi body was writhing, his eyes needy. But he wasn't asking... not asking him for a thing. And now knowing how bad it was... Sam knew the super control Dean had to be exerting, that it could break any moment. He eyed the cuff on Dean's wrist, wanted to remove it... but remembered the last time Dean was all hands.

It was different now, right? He'd promised Dean he'd be with him, however he wanted. He could trust Dean with his life, with slowing if that was what he needed, right? He thought back on the last time they'd practically made love... no fucked... no made... ah he was gonna drive himself nuts trying to figure it out. But he remembered, Dean was handsy and demanding, but he never hurt him, he begged but never forced him.

He went to get the keys to the cuffs and saw Dean raising his body practically off the bed. "I'll be right there Dean, I swear," he said. By the time he got back, he dropped the damned key three times before he had the cuffs unlocked, and slowly lowered his body over his brother's naked one. "It's gone. I'm here... I'm here Dean," he said, shaking slightly as he lowered his mouth to Dean's and brushed against them once. "I think I still remember how," he said, a little embarrassed, but smiling slightly as he started to push his tongue into the heat of Dean's mouth, knowing in a few seconds, his brother would make all the self consciousness go away, make it all better, just like he always did.

* * *

The sight of Sam… the incubus… as it truly was, was both sickening and frightening. Maybe even more so because even seeing it for what it truly was, when its touch finally left him Dean still couldn’t help crying out in agonizing need. The demon’s last shriek of rage lanced through his whole body like a knife. Flaying him open completely and leaving him bleeding and wounded. It was supposed to go away. The pain… Sam had promised the pain would go away… It only got worse. So much worse…

Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head as he moaned in pain, desire so strong it hurt, his body shaking like he was having a seizure. He knew that his brother was still there, his real brother, Sammy. He knew Sam was there and… Sam had promised the pain would go away. Sam had promised him…

Dean clung to that knowledge. His fingers gripping the sheets beneath him white knuckled, clinging to that thought. Sam had promised him. Promised to give him… everything…

He felt the bed shift. Dean opened his eyes. He could barely focus, but he saw Sam… leaving… and he couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped his lips if he tried. Sammy… no… oh god, Sam couldn’t leave him like this. He couldn’t… He needed Sam so badly, god help him, but he needed… he knew he shouldn’t, but he did.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to regain control over his body, trying to slow his heart that felt like it was ready to explode in his chest. He barely felt it when the cuff fell away from his wrist, however his eyes snapped open when he felt Sam’s slim body cover his own. His breath rushed out of him in a shuddering whimper when his brother’s lips brushed his own. Sammy… oh god… Sam…

He couldn’t hold back any longer. Dean wrapped his arms around the younger boy tightly, clutching Sam to him as he opened his mouth beneath his brother’s. Sucking Sam’s tongue into his mouth and stroking it with his own. He touched Sam everywhere. Cupping and squeezing his buttocks, pulling Sam closer as he bucked underneath him. He ran his fingers through the younger boy’s hair, and cradled his head as he kissed Sam over and over. He arched underneath his brother desperately, his rock hard erection rubbing against his brother’s thigh, and when his orgasm finally ripped through him it took Dean completely by surprise. He practically sobbed into his brother’s mouth as his body shuddered. But with every pulse of his cock he felt a little bit of the pain ease, a little bit of the need fade…

He was still hard, painfully hard, but his grip on the younger boy eased and his kisses gentled. Dean panted against his brother’s lips as his hands slid up from the younger boy’s ass and under his shirt, caressing the soft warm flesh of Sam’s back. He kept moving beneath Sam, grinding up against the younger boy, but he was able to go slower. His movements less frantic. His hands slid around to Sam’s chest, pushing his brother up off him a little. His fingers toying with Sam’s nipples as he stared up at his brother. Something else other than blind need flickering in his eyes as he gazed up at the younger boy.

Dean’s eyes fell on his brother’s kiss swollen lips with no small amount of guilt.

“Tell me… you don’t want this… I’ll stop…” 

* * *

The way Dean held him so tight, Sam could barely breath. His brother’s desperation was palpable, in the almost brutal kiss, in the way his fingers dug into his flesh, his ass, his back, in a way that had Sam thinking that even if he’d wanted to pull away, Dean might not be able to let him, and in the way he bucked so hard, so single mindedly grinding his erection into his thigh.

Fuck... maybe it shouldn’t, but it did excite Sam... had him going hard just like that. The knowledge of how much Dean needed him, the proof of it... the hard knot rubbing against his thigh, the desperate sounds from Dean, it made Sam throb all over, every part of them that touched, made him want this to go on and on, even if Dean was hurting... which was fucked up and crazy... “oh God,” he whispered, opening his mouth again for his brother’s tongue.

Then wet hot cum was spurting across his thigh, and Sam almost wept because he thought it was the end. Dean had what he wanted, and maybe didn’t know what he’d started in Sam. This... these feelings that were building, and he didn’t want to go and take care of it alone again. He wanted Dean to...

Then Dean didn’t stop. He was touching him again, only much more gently. His hands pushing him back, but only so he could touch his chest. Sam involuntarily threw his head back at the intensity of sensations crashing through him as Dean ran his calloused fingers over his nipples. He made a choked sound and forced himself to open his eyes, rocking gently against Dean, hesitating but unable to keep his restless body still. Wanting... wanting something from his brother, wanting it bad... His lips parted, eyes widening... hoping.

“Don’t stop. Please Dean, don’t stop. I want...” he thrust against Dean, grinding his own erection into his brother’s hip. “Want this... don’t make me jerk off in the shower again, please. Need this,” he pushed his hips down again, “kiss me again, Dean.. want to...” he felt the heat steal over his cheeks. “Want to be under you.” 

* * *

The powerful… deadly… need that the incubus had created inside of him hadn’t dissipated when he’d come. Not completely. Just enough to let him think beyond the painful arousal surging through his veins. Just enough to understand what was happening. What he was doing… and who he was doing it with… Dean knew without a doubt if Sam hadn’t stopped the incubus tonight that it would have killed him. Sucked him completely dry…

But even knowing that his brother had saved his life tonight, aside from the powerful need still gripping him, he couldn’t help feeling shame and guilt just as powerful. A part of him wished that Sam hadn’t intervened.

Because this wasn’t some twisted sex demon he was holding, kissing, rutting up against. It was his baby brother. Sammy. How could he be doing this to his brother? How could he let himself… He hated himself more in this moment than he ever had his whole life. Because he knew he could stop, if Sam would just tell him to stop, he would. He didn’t care how much it hurt, he would stop… But Sam had to tell him… he didn’t have enough control to do it himself.

But Sam didn’t tell him. Sam kept rubbing against him, grinding his hips down against his needy erection, and Dean couldn’t help the needy pathetic sounds that even those small movements drew from him. _Don’t do this, please, Sammy…_ He wanted to beg his brother, but he was weak. He couldn’t… and he hated himself even more. Sam begging him _not_ to stop, begging for his kisses, his touch, telling him he wanted this… even though there was no way his brother could possibly want this… was Dean’s undoing.

“Oh god, Sammy…” Dean practically whimpered before pulling his brother back down to him, turning them both so that Sam was beneath him… just like Sam had asked. He covered his brother’s lips with his own, pouring all of the want and need… he shouldn’t be feeling… into the kiss, moaning softly into the younger boy’s mouth. So sweet… so much sweeter than that… thing… pretending to be his brother.

He slid his hands down his brother’s body, hating the feel of the fabric beneath his fingers instead of the warm soft flesh he wanted to feel. So Dean pushed his hands underneath Sam’s shirt, spreading his fingers over the younger boy’s stomach as he caressed upwards. Sam’s t-shirt riding up as he went, feeling the taunt warm flesh of Sam’s stomach against his own making Dean groan again as he settled between his brother’s legs, rocking his hips against his brother’s. One of his hands moving around to slide beneath the waistband of his brother’s shorts, cupping and squeezing the younger boy’s bare ass.

* * *

Dean’s hesitation scared Sam. He could see the indecision in his brother’s eyes, even as his body gave a whole other story. One of wanting, desiring, needing. “Under you,” Sam repeated, trying to show him that he meant it.

His brother’s arms closed around him so tight, and then they rolled and he had Dean’s weight over him. Groaning at how good it felt to have the pressure of Dean’s body pressing into him like this, Sam squirmed closer, offering his mouth up completely to Dean. God the heat that went through him each time Dean kissed him... bet no one knew how to kiss like his brother.

He put his arms around Dean’s shoulders, one hand sliding up the center of his back to the nape of his brother’s neck, playing with his hair as they kissed. He analyzed everything he loved about this. His brother’s taste... his scent, so familiar, and yet it was tantalizing, drawing him in a way it never had before. The confident way Dean moved, controlled the kiss, making it go slower and faster, tangling his tongue a million way, making this seem so... effortless... easy, just how Dean was on hunts, and when he was looking for chicks, at the top of his game. But the sounds he made... that’s what Sam liked best. Because as practiced as Dean was, as good as he was at this, the sounds told him that he was affected... that he needed Sam too, and that’s what made Sam respond even more wholeheartedly.

As Dean’s hands moved over his stomach, Sam lifted his hips up, needing to get as close to Dean as he possibly could. “Dean, good... feels good,” he said, moving his mouth over his brothers, sucking his lower lip into his mouth like Dean had done to him. Releasing slowly, he moved to Dean’s upper lip and at just that moment, he realized Dean’s hands were inside his boxers. A loud moan broke out of him, his fingers digging more desperately into Dean’s back as heat swept through him.

“Oh God Dean ... more... please,” he begged, moving restlessly under his brother, hooking one leg over Dean’s and pulling himself up. “More... more Dean,” he demanded, his head moving from side to side.

* * *

Sam was touching him, holding on to him, hell, practically clinging to him. His brother’s soft fingers petting through his hair, teasing and soothing at the same time. The younger boy moving against him, squirming underneath him, but not to get away… like Sam should have been… only to get closer. Sam was making soft needy sounds, practically mewling into his mouth, and kissing him back… oh god, Sammy was kissing him back, and Dean could barely believe it. He would have sworn this was still a dream, a fantasy created by the incubus, but Dean knew it wasn’t. No matter how much that thing looked like his brother, no matter how much it sounded like Sam, no matter how much pleasure it gave him, it was nothing compared to having Sam in his arms.

Sammy… his little brother…

Dean wanted to hate himself but the way Sam was lifting his hips, whispering how good it felt as the younger boy sucked on his lip… the way Dean had shown him to… The way Sam moaned in surprise and pleasure as Dean squeezed his ass, clutching him tighter, and begged for _more_. Fuck…

“Anything you want, Sammy… anything…” Dean heard himself whisper and he knew he was lost. He was sliding his hand up the smooth lean muscled thigh that wrapped around him, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his brother’s underwear and dragging them down. Just enough to let the younger boy’s hard cock spring free and Dean groaned at the sight. He curled his fingers around the younger boy’s cock and began to stroke him, kissing and nipping his way down his brother’s throat and sucking on the skin above his collar bone. 

* * *

The low timbre or Dean’s voice got to Sam. His stomach muscles clenched tighter, he moaned as Dean’s calloused palm slipped up his thigh, and bit his lip in surprise when his shorts were moved out of the way.

Heat stole up Sam’s cheeks when Dean looked down between their bodies, then Dean’s hand was around his dick, stroking him... oh God it felt like nothing he’d ever experienced... like nothing he’d ever dreamed. White hot heat licked up his body, making him squirm and thrust into Dean’s hand, making sounds come out of his throat... sounds he didn’t even recognize as his.

Sam’s blunt fingernails dug into Dean’s flesh as his brother took him to places he’d never been. Each time his brother’s mouth moved over him, each little nibble on his sensitive skin had Sam aching just a little more. He threw his head back as a new wave of heat raced through his veins.

Sam’s breaths came in gasps as Dean moved lower on his body, as he kept pumping him. He was so hard... so damned hard. “D... Dean...” he had to really work on making sense. “Can I ... can I touch you too?” his hand slid down Dean’s back, to his sides. “L... like you are?”

* * *

Oh god. Sam’s cock in his hand felt like hot velvet covered steel, practically burning his palm. The sounds his little brother was making, they were driving him crazy. Needy desperate whimpers and moans with every stroke he made along his sensitive flesh, every lick he made along his younger brother’s sweat slick skin, every time he circled his thumb over the head and sensitive slit of the younger boy’s dick. He was going to go to hell for this, Dean knew, but right now he didn’t give a damn.

The younger boy’s fingers digging into his back, clutching him tighter, had Dean groaning. He stroked Sam a little faster as his brother fucked into his hand, and Dean held the younger boy a little tighter to him, loving the feel of his baby brother squirming helplessly beneath him in pleasure.

Dean bit down at the junction of the younger boy’s neck and shoulder, sucking hard, knowing he was leaving a mark and not really caring. Leaving a mark that Sam would wear for days, and every time his brother looked at it he would remember now… the idea made him sick at heart even as it thrilled him.

Sam asking… practically begging… to touch him too nearly had Dean coming. He lifted his head, staring down at his brother with so much love and need it hurt, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to turn back, stop this, but he had already gone too far. There was no turning back now. God help him…

“Yes… please, Sammy…” 

* * *

The way Dean was sucking on him had Sam smiling slightly. He wanted to ask if Dean thought he was candy or something, but Dean’s hand moving over his cock made it impossible for him to joke.

The intensity of Dean’s gaze was almost too much to bear. Sam licked his lips, wondering if he shouldn’t have asked, and then his brother was not only saying ‘yes’ but asking him to.

“Dean, don’t stop,” he whispered, afraid that they were switching and that Dean’s hand would no longer move over him, but Dean seemed to understand. He just rolled onto his side, so they were facing each other, and oh God his hand was working him as good as before, squeezing stroking.

Breaking away from Dean’s gaze, Sam looked down, his cheeks flushing upon seeing Dean’s cock erect and pressing up against his stomach. He’d just come and already.... Swallowing, he put his palm over Dean’s chest, slowly running it down his body, lips parting in wonder as he felt Dean arch into his touch.

First he palmed Dean’s cock, pressing his hand over it, trapping it against Dean’s stomach, rolling his hand in circles as he got used to the length and girth of his brother’s dick. When he worked up the courage, he took it in his closed fist, eyes swinging upwards to Dean’s as he moved slowly, stroking him, then emulating the motions of Dean’s own hand on him... squeezing when his brother squeezed, running his thumb over the crown of Dean’s cock, pulsing... and still watching Dean.

His breaths were coming louder. Sam leaned closer, rubbing his mouth across Dean’s, inviting another kiss. He wanted Dean’s tongue inside his mouth, thrusting ... tangling with his tongue, making him feel like they were connected, that this was something special, for just the two of them.

* * *

Dean shook his head slightly when Sam told him not to stop. No, he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop now. He was too far gone now. As much as he hated himself, he was already damned, might as well go all the way. Unless Sammy told him to stop… that was the only thing right now that probably could make him pause. Not thoughts of their father. Nothing else. But he would never force his brother. Never. He’d rather die first.

So when Sam nudged him he obediently slid off the younger boy’s body, facing his brother on his side. His breath hitching a little in his throat when the younger boy turned with him and snuggled up against him. Dean slid his other arm around his brother while he continued to gently stroke up and down Sam’s cock. His fingers tracing abstract patterns along the younger boy’s spine, from the small of his back to the cleft of his ass.

The way Sam was looking at him only made him harder still if that was possible. Precome leaking from his tip as the younger boy’s fingers touched him and Dean groaned, pressing into his brother’s hand, as it slid down his body.

“Sammy…” Dean practically whined, his eyes fluttering closed and his lips parted, panting, when Sam’s fingers touched his cock. More come leaking out, smearing against his stomach as his brother rubbed his hand against it. Those first tentative touches more incredible than he could have ever imagined, simply because it was Sam’s fingers and palm rubbing against his dick, exploring his length, finally wrapping around his aching shaft.

“Oh god…” The elder man groaned and then Sam was stroking him. The touches along his dick mirroring what he was doing to the younger boy. When he teased his thumb around the crown of his brother’s dick, and Sam did the same for him, he wanted to come so fucking bad but he held back. Not wanting this to end so soon. He needed this not to end soon. He needed it to last for as long as fucking possible. Because he knew it would never happen again.

“Sammy…” He breathed his brother’s name again against the younger boy’s lips when he felt them gently caress his own and he didn’t hesitate accepting the silent offer. His mouth opened to Sam’s and he teased his tongue past his brother’s lips to caress inside the younger boy’s mouth. His other hand slipped down his brother’s back to cup his brother’s ass as he sped his strokes along the younger boy’s dick. His fingers finding their way between the warm downy cheeks to rub teasing along the crack, over the tight puckered hole again and again. 

* * *

Dean's hand on his ass felt good, kind of tickled when he ran his fingers along his cleft, but when his finger concentrated on his hole, Sam's eyes fluttered open. Eyes wide, he watched Dean's face, unsure if he was supposed to be touching Dean like that too. Really, he could barely concentrate on stroking Dean's cock, keeping up the motions, when he was being drowned by the sensations rocking his entire body. He gave a strangled, "Dean?"

It shouldn't feel good, he didn't know why he thought that, but the truth was it did feel good. He'd never known how sensitive that area was, that being touched there could feel like this. Yeah, he wasn't sure about things, but he trusted Dean... and Dean would know. "Didn't know it would feel like that," he whispered against Dean's ear, groaning as his brother squeezed him and then gripped the base of his cock.

Had Dean realized he was close to coming... had he helped him slow down like that? All Sam knew was that he was glad... that it felt good to keep going. "s'good Dean," he managed to say, hips thrusting harder into Dean's palm. He felt a light sheen of sweat cover him, he was so hot... he needed Dean so badly his motions were getting jerkier. He tried to concentrate on moving his hand just right, wanting to give Dean the same pleasure that Sam was giving him.

Again and again, he brought his mouth to Dean's, kissing him, learning to tangle his tongue with his brother's. It felt good, so good to run his tongue along the roof of Dean's mouth, to trace him from the inside, to stroke his tongue over Dean's and dart his tongue away, only to be caught by Dean's. Little sounds started to break from him. Heat pooled low in his belly, pressure building... building to new heights. "Dean need... oh man... I gotta...." he bit his lower lip, and squeezed his eyes shut as his balls drew up tight against his body. "Dean, can't... can't wait more..."

* * *

The look of near awe on the younger boy’s face as Dean played with his hole and his cock at the same time was nearly his undoing. His brother was obviously surprised, but that didn’t stop Sam from thrusting into his hand and back onto his fingers and Dean couldn’t help rubbing more insistently over that tight hot pucker. He could feel the younger boy shaking against him, and he knew that his brother was close. Just as close as Dean himself was. Dean tightened his hold at the base of the younger boy’s cock, trying to hold them both off for just a few more minutes. He just wanted this to last a little longer…

“I’m so close… fuck Sammy, so good…” Dean couldn’t help but whisper, breathing his brother’s name over and over, almost like a prayer as Sam fucked into his hand harder, stroked him harder, kissed him again and again… Hearing the younger boy’s little whimpers of need, his brother’s whispered desperate pleas, was his undoing. He fucked once, twice, more into Sam’s hand, hanging right there on the edge.

“Come for me, Sammy… I’ve got you… come for me, little brother…” Dean whispered as he jerked the younger boy’s cock faster and pressed the tip of one finger just past the tight muscles guarding his brother’s entrance. At the same time, his own cock pulsed and he gave a strangled cry as he came a second time all over the both of them. 

* * *

Sam didn't know why, but his brother's breathless words just pushed him that much closer to the edge. He was moving with wild abandoned, touching, squeezing, fucking between Dean's hands on his cock and his ass, not knowing what to do with all these intense feelings rushing through him, drowning him. It was too much, too much pleasure, too much need, too much helplessness. "De.."

The sudden invasion of his hole made his entire body tense, and stiffen, his balls drawing up so tight against his body it hurt. "Ungh!" The unintelligible sound was torn from his throat, and then he was coming... all over his brother... his cum spraying against Dean's stomach, even as Dean's splattered hotly against his own. He was trembling, even as the last wave of heat passed over him, and he rolled closer, putting his arm around Dean's waist, his stomach sliding against the wetness of Dean's. He buried his face in his brother's throat, breathing deeply, taking in his scent, trying to bring his thoughts and feelings under control.

A few minutes passed. Peace settled inside his body. Leaning even closer, he kissed Dean's neck. "You're mine Dean. Not... not that thing's." His eyes were closed, his body and mind tired, drowsy now that Dean was safe, but he needed to make that one thing clear. Had to. "Not that nurse's either." Yeah, Dean would probably argue with him later, but he'd said his peace.

* * *

Sam was coming. Just like Dean had told him to. Oh god, that only made Dean come harder himself. His brother’s seed spilled through his fingers on the younger boy’s cock, mingling with his own, and completely covering the both of them. So fucking dirty and wrong and… perfect… His little brother was trembling with desire, with the pleasure Dean had given him, his hand on the younger boy’s cock and his finger inside… Fuck…

Dean withdrew his finger and released his brother’s spent flesh, he knew he should push Sam away from him now… but he just couldn’t. He knew Sam would push him away soon enough so it would be easier if he was the one to do it… but he just couldn’t… he had promised Sam he wouldn’t. Even though he knew Sam would never have made him make that promise if the younger boy knew this… would be the result. His sick brother using him like this… oh god, he never should have let Sam do this for him… How could he have fucked up this badly?

But Sam didn’t push him away, instead the younger boy only pushed himself closer. Curling against him and holding on, rubbing their sweat and come slick skin against each other, and Dean could only close his eyes as another gentler shiver of pleasure passed through him. He was so damned tired. Exhausted beyond anything he’d ever felt in his life. Now that the need the incubus had made burn inside of him was sated, he felt like he could sleep for a week.

He knew they couldn’t… shouldn’t… stay like this. They needed to talk… but he just couldn’t stay awake. Not when he felt so sated, warm, and… happy… Sam’s soft words made his breath hitch a little in his throat. Sam couldn’t possibly mean what… he thought Sam meant… God damn it he wasn’t going to start blubbering like some kind of girl.

“I can live with that.” Dean murmured softly, hugging Sam even closer to him as he drifted off. 


	8. Chapter 8

When Sam finally woke, it was late, real late into the night. They'd been out for a good twelve ours. With Dean's arms around him, the heat of his body against his own, he felt so... safe, protected. Things were back where they should be again, with Dean normal and able to take back his role. Except Sam had found out he could help his brother too.  


  
He smiled against Dean's throat then lifting his head, looked down at his brother, peaceful in sleep. Was it bad that he saw him differently now? That he loved his brother's full lips, not just for how they looked, but how they felt... the things they could do to him? That thinking about that mouth on his body made him tingle and burn? Swallowing, his eyes swept over the scattering of freckles across the bridge of Dean's nose. You had to be up close or know they were there, or you'd never notice them. Then there were his eyes. One minute they could be filled with mischief, the next so fucking intense it made you hold your breath. But one thing... when he wasn't pushing you away, they left you in no doubt that you were the center of his world.

Sam guessed he'd always known that. It had just been hard to hang onto that feeling when Dean had started pushing him away. Shouting more often, basically rejecting him in ways and for things he didn't understand. Now everything could be right with them. Sam would make sure of it.

Lowering his mouth, he kissed Dean, hard, pushing his tongue inside his brother's mouth, stroking his tongue and the roof of his mouth, making sure he woke him. When he knew Dean was up, he started to pull away and found he was kind of stuck to Dean. A flush of embarrassment swept over him at the knowledge that it was the dried semen between them that was the 'glue.' "We should probably shower. You wanna?" The 'with me' was obvious.

* * *

Dean had slept like the dead. If he’d had any dreams, he didn’t remember them. He didn’t move or shift in his sleep at all. He was completely utterly exhausted, and completely lost to the world of the living. The roof might have fallen in on him and he wouldn’t have woken up. That was a dangerous state of exhaustion, especially for a hunter.

Even when he was sick or hurt he usually didn’t let himself sleep that hard, unless he was unconscious. He had to be able to be awake and alert at a moment’s notice, able to protect himself and Sam…

But he felt safe in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Warm and content… and safe… safe enough to sleep deep and long without fear. Knowing he, and Sam, would be safe until they woke up. Usually Dean didn’t feel that safe unless their dad was around, but this time, this one time, he let himself.

Even when he was drawn out of his deep sleep against his will and without warning by the pressure against his lips, for some reason he wasn’t alarmed. The soft insistent wet tongue invading his mouth, exploring every inch of him, made him moan softly instead of jerk awake reaching for a weapon at hand. His arms tightened a little around the warm naked body pressed against him, his own tongue tangling with the one in his mouth. His eyes finally fluttered open, a soft sound of complaint escaping his throat, when those sweet lips pulled away.

“Sam?” Dean whispered, still half confused by what was happening as the rest of his brain struggled to wake up. Sam was still with him… had never moved away from him, obviously, by the way they were still ‘stuck’ together. Dean blinked up at the younger boy. Yeah… a shower would probably be good, but… Dean swallowed hard…

They needed to talk. Sam had to understand that just because his brother was a sick fuck that wanted to fuck his baby brother, Sam didn’t need to… let him… The incubus was gone… at least Dean was sure it was gone. It was just his own sick twisted desires left. They might have been tying him up in knots for months, but he could control them.

“Sammy… I… you don’t have to… do this…” Dean finally forced out, forcing himself to loosen his hold on the younger boy in his arms. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry you had to… I never wanted you to know, but you don’t have to anymore.” 

* * *

Icy fingers of fear had Sam meeting Dean's eyes as he waited to be pushed away, to be rejected. It never came. Listening both to Dean's words and his body language, Sam understood this was an apology and an opportunity to walk out the door, that was all. Dean was being honorable, as usual, possibly at the cost of his own happiness. He could see pain in his brother's eyes, regret. Bet he'd rather have died, been sucked of all of his energy by that incubus than to have caused Sam to do this, to make love with him.

Complicated, hell yeah. Sam had known that, known what he was getting into. He'd known it as well as he knew his heart, and in his heart he knew this wasn't just about the incubus. That might have been the catalyst for him learning what he wanted, needed from Dean, but that wasn't the reason he wanted to stay curled up against this brother, wasn't the reason he wanted some assurance that this was not the last time, that they'd explore this... maybe just accept it.

He licked his lips, tightened his own grip on his brother. "It's... it's not about _that_ Dean. I... I want this, wanted it before, want it now," he said softy, trying to explain. "That thing is gone now, but this... this thing between us, it's still here. I know you think I'm a kid, you do," he insisted before Dean could interrupt him. "But I know my mind Dean, I know what I want. I want you... want to be with you like this, only you." He skimmed his mouth over Dean's, loving the heat... the electricity that was between them. He couldn't give that up, wouldn't.

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Maybe to see a flash of relief in the younger boy’s eyes now that he didn’t have to let his sick older brother use his body. Maybe he just expected Sam to nod in agreement and leave. At least his brother was kind enough not to let his revulsion show… He hadn’t been expecting his brother to hold onto him tighter. Almost desperately tight.

“Sammy?” Dean could only whisper in disbelief and confusion. What did Sam mean that it wasn’t about the incubus? The fact that the creature had been killing him… Sam had no choice… of course it was about that. But Dean wasn’t in ‘danger’ anymore. Sam didn’t need to keep doing this. Surely his brother had to realize…

But Sam was saying… that he… wanted this… before…

Dean’s expression clouded over with even more disbelief. How could Sam possibly have wanted this _before_? How could he want it _now_! They both couldn’t possibly be this fucked up… oh god, had he damaged Sam more than he thought? Now Sam thought that he actually…

He wanted to protest what Sam was saying, but honestly he didn’t even know where to _start_. There was so much so very wrong… No, Sam wasn’t a ‘kid’ anymore. That was part of the problem. But he was still so damned young. Not to mention Sam was his little _brother_. His brother had never even… been with anyone before… except him. Fuck, that was so wrong…

Sam telling him that he wanted him, only him… it nearly broke his heart, even as he felt it fill with a treacherous hope he had no right feeling. Then Sam’s soft lips were gently caressing his own and Dean knew he was lost. God help him, he couldn’t fight this, especially if Sam wouldn’t push him away like he should.

“I should go to hell for touching you this way… loving you this way…” Dean whispered, maybe praying that his brother would come to his senses and stop him from ruining him. Praying Sam would come to his senses even as he kissed the younger boy. 

* * *

Sam's answer died on his lips as Dean gave in and kissed him. Groaning softly, Sam tangled his tongue with his brother's inside his mouth, stroking, tasting, loving Dean, hanging onto him, holding him tight, showing him silently that he meant what he said, that he wanted this... needed it. They kissed until he had to pull up to take a breath.

His eyes locked with Dean's. He licked his mouth, tasting Dean there, and swallowed. "You were on your way anyway. I'm... I'm just saving you from it, from your slutting around." He gave a dimpled smile, then lowered his mouth again for another mind drugging kiss. God... he loved the way Dean held him tight, the way his hands roved over his body without even the slightest hesitation. No awkward explorations, no experimental first-time touches. It was perfect, Dean was perfect.

This time when he broke the kiss, he had no doubt he had Dean. His lips quirked into another smile. "Want you to kiss me when you're all wet... in the shower." Before his brother could answer, Sam rolled off him, and walked away, that smile still firmly in place and certain, Dean would follow.

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but moan softly against his brother’s lips as he surrendered to the gentle loving kiss Sam eagerly returned and the older boy knew he was lost. It was still wrong, would always be wrong, but as long as his brother let him have this… wanted it just as much as he did… Dean knew he was lost. He could only pray when the day came Sam realized that this wasn’t what he really wanted, his brother wouldn’t hate him. When the day came that Sam didn’t want this anymore, didn’t want him anymore, Dean would let him go… no matter how it might break his heart…

Now, Dean couldn’t push Sam away. He’d promised… He wasn’t strong enough even if he hadn’t made that promise.

When Sam finally pulled back from their kiss that left them both panting a little, Dean’s eyebrows shot up a little at the younger boy’s words. Slutting around… that little cheeky bitch. Dean would have had quite a few things to say to that if Sam didn’t proceed to silence him with another kiss. Little shit. And here he was worried about ruining his brother. The younger boy was still the pain in the ass little brother he always was.

The next time Sam pulled away, making his suggestion that they continue this ‘discussion’ in the shower, Dean couldn’t help but return the younger boy’s grin though he didn’t move right away. Simply watching Sam as his brother rolled off him and headed off to the bathroom naked as the day he was born and not the least bit shy apparently showing himself off.

Dean couldn’t help but smile more, a cautious optimism filling him in spite of everything. Maybe it would be ok after all.

Hearing the shower start Dean pushed himself up from the bed, following after Sam. 


End file.
